


A Season Lost

by sturner1805



Series: Constant Love [3]
Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: "Year Without a Summer", 1816, F/M, Pemberley, Sail, frigate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-16 13:04:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 37,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14165457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sturner1805/pseuds/sturner1805
Summary: As the "Year Without a Summer" threatens estates throughout Britain, Elizabeth and Georgiana both go on journeys that take unexpected turns, while an unexpected romance emerges on Pemberley's grounds. (Third story in the Constant Love series, continuing Pride and Prejudice.)





	1. Part 1, Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, dear readers! I would love to receive feedback on this story (and I mean really really love constructive criticism). For anyone who needs a refresher as to the major characters and marriages, I have posted an updated version of the family tree at my blog, sophie-turner-acl DOT blogspot DOT com
> 
> Readers looking for specific content warnings should be aware that this story contains: natural miscarriage, sexual assaults, the slave trade, illness and death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who needs a refresher as to the major characters and marriages, I have posted an updated version of the family tree at my blog, sophie-turner-acl DOT blogspot DOT com

 

 

 

**A Season Lost**

**PART ONE**

_February, 1816_

**Chapter 1**

There was a morning, at Pemberley, in which Elizabeth Darcy went in to breakfast wearing a cap. It was a fine cap, trimmed with some of the lace her sister Georgiana had purchased for her in Paris, and – so Elizabeth thought – fully appropriate for a married woman who had now borne two heirs for Pemberley.

Most of their house party had left already: Captain and Mrs. Ramsey, and their brother, Herbert, had gone south to visit family in Salisbury; and the Stanton men had returned to their various careers, their wives in consort. Thus Elizabeth found the winter breakfast room empty, save her husband, who was lingering over his coffee and looked at her with what seemed censure, when she walked in.

"What is this nonsense?" he asked, rising to walk over to where she had entered the room and, as though to ensure her certainty of precisely what he had labelled _nonsense_ , plucking at the edge of the cap and looking his wife in the eye.

"It is a cap, Darcy – surely you have seen them."

"I have, on matrons."

"Is not your wife a matron, after two years of marriage and two children?"

"She might be such in status, but I had not thought of her as such in looks," he said, and turned to the footman standing by the sideboard. "Will you have Kelly summoned here at once?"

"Darcy, do not be severe on her. The cap was my idea. In truth, I had thought myself overdue to begin wearing one."

"Why? Why should you frame a beautiful face in anything less than it deserves?" he asked.

"Well, I suppose I had thought the cap _tolerable_ enough."

"You sly woman," he said. "But do not think that shall prevent me from standing firm on this, for I will. I most certainly will."

Sarah Kelly appeared then, curtsying deeply and looking with puzzlement between her mistress and master. "Sir? Madam?"

"I must apologise, Miss Kelly," Darcy said. "Clearly your wages are not what they should be. I would have expected my wife to bring this to my attention, but it seems instead she has wished to curtail your duties. So please, let me make clear to you, for every day Mrs. Darcy does not appear to the household in some ridiculous cap; for every day her hair is styled to become her countenance as it should be, I shall now supplement your pay by ten per cent."

"Sir – I'm so sorry – I – "

"Miss Kelly, I have already informed Mr. Darcy of how the cap was my idea. Do not worry yourself over it, although I shall take him up on raising your wages by ten per cent."

"Thank you, ma'am," said Sarah, awkwardly curtsying, and then rushing from the room with a flustered countenance.

After she had left, Darcy pinched his fingers upon the top of Elizabeth's head and plucked off the cap, examining it for a moment before he scowled, shook his head, and tucked it away within his waistcoat.

"Much better," he said. "Please do not deprive me of my lovely wife again for breakfast. I fear I shall lose my appetite."

"Darcy, I suspect you have already ate."

"Perhaps I have, but that is only because I was not faced with my wife attempting to look as some half-centurion dowager at the breakfast table."

"Are you going to keep it?"

"Yes. I might consider giving it back to you in thirty years or so."

Mrs. Bennet walked in then, and as she was wearing a cap that looked wholly appropriate on a woman with five daughters grown and married, no more could be said on the subject.

Mr. and Mrs. Bennet had joined Jane and Charles Bingley as houseguests of longer duration, for Pemberley's nursery presently housed all three of the Bennets's grandchildren – the Bingley's daughter, Elizabeth, and the Darcys's twin sons, James and George. The nursery was, as always, the destination for the women after breaking their fast, and Elizabeth went there after returning briefly to her dressing room so that Sarah could style her hair. She opened the nursery's door and very nearly tripped over her young namesake – whom they all called Bess – for the child had become quite an excellent crawler.

"Pa!" exclaimed Bess. "Pa! Pa!"

It had been Elizabeth who realised that when Bess said this, she was asking not for her father, but to _play_ the pianoforte, which had always held a fascination for her. Up until recently, a small square pianoforte had been housed in the nursery so that it could be played for her whenever she fussed. Now, however, Bess's preference was to play for herself by pounding on the keys, and the resulting cacophony had necessitated moving the pianoforte into one of the bedrooms down the hall from the nursery. It appeared Bess wished to go thither.

"I shall take her," said Jane, with an apologetic look to them all. She picked up her daughter and left, and a few minutes later, the distant, wholly illogical sound of the pianoforte could be heard.

"I should not say anything against any of my grandchildren," said Mrs. Bennet, "but oh how that noise plays on my nerves!"

"We can have the pianoforte moved farther down the hall if you like, mama," Elizabeth said.

"No, no, then poor Jane and Mrs. Padgett will have to carry her even farther when she wishes to play," said Mrs. Bennet. "I only wish for their sake she was better-behaved, like your boys."

"Mama, I suspect when they are older and Bess is taking proper pianoforte lessons and the boys are playing rough, as boys do, you will change your mind about who is better-behaved."

"Perhaps," said Mrs. Bennet, doubtfully. She was sitting and holding James, who by virtue of being the heir to Pemberley, was her favourite child, and so Elizabeth picked up George. Elizabeth did not like to think of favourites among her own sons, but she did feel for poor George, who had been born a second son by mere hours.

The boys were beginning to show small differences in their personalities: both were quiet, but George was the quieter of the two, and although he had been the first to smile, it was James now who smiled more often. Elizabeth tried to avoid thinking about what this would mean for how they would turn out in the future, but it was impossible to do so entirely.

Sometimes, she allowed her thoughts to trail far ahead to the future, to wondering what sort of career George would prefer as a second son. They had family connexions who might give him a start in either the navy or the army, but as a mother, she could not like the thought of her son choosing a career that might risk his life. The clergy or the law would be much better, Elizabeth thought, and she resolved that George should have every opportunity to spend time around her brother, David Stanton, and perhaps even her uncle Philips – although a boy of George's birth would be expected to be a barrister, not a small town attorney – in the hopes that he might take an active interest in one of his relations's careers.

* * *

On most days, Elizabeth returned to the nursery numerous times, for she had chosen to nurse her sons herself, and although their nurse, Mrs. Nichols – a widow who had a young son of her own – nursed them if needed, Elizabeth preferred it be her that fed them, so long as she was available. She had completed the last of these feedings, for the night – any needs the twins had in the midst of the night were seen to by Mrs. Nichols, something Elizabeth felt a little guilty over, but Mrs. Nichols assured her it was not so bad – and been changed by Sarah, and was now walking through her apartment to the master's bedchamber.

She was surprised to find herself immediately taken up into an ardent embrace, upon her entry into that chamber, an embrace punctuated by a very passionate kiss.

"My, what is this for?" she asked, gasping, once the kiss had ended.

"After what happened in January, I feared you might have misinterpreted what I meant at breakfast, about the cap." He referred to a brief period of time just before their return to marital relations after Elizabeth had given birth, when she had feared his lack of attention towards her meant he no longer desired her. Elizabeth had been too stung by the rejection to understand the truth: startled by the death of their cousin in childbirth, he had feared getting his wife with child again and losing her in the same manner.

Darcy continued: "I never meant to censure your beauty, or indicate that I felt any less attraction to you – "

"I understood you perfectly, my love. You need not explain yourself further."

"Thank goodness," he said, looking very relieved.

"So this was your attempt to convince me of how you desire me?" she asked.

He replied that it was.

"It was a very good attempt. I think you should make another."

He did so, kissing her very thoroughly and then grasping at the folds of her nightgown as he said: "You are at your best without any unnecessary adornments, my love, and I would very much like to remove this one, if you are amenable."

"Oh yes, I am very amenable."

 


	2. Part 1, Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Georgiana could rarely recall feeling so uncomfortable as she did now. She was in the study of the London town house of the Earl of Anglesey, which, although it was a decidedly masculine room, would not before have been somewhere she associated with discomfort. And indeed, it was the conversation occurring, rather than any appointment of the room, which was distressing her.

"Have I taught you nothing?" Lord Anglesey was rather more shouting than saying to his nephew, Georgiana's husband Matthew. "There is nothing to be gained by cutting an acquaintance – any acquaintance – much less your own father!"

Georgiana supposed she and Matthew should have expected Lord Anglesey would not react well to their decision to cut the acquaintance of her father-in-law, but she had not thought he would be so vehement. She was not certain whether it would have changed their decision to do so, for her father-in-law had upset her terribly, by accusing her of carelessness in a fall down the stairs that had caused her to lose the baby she had been carrying.

"I could not stand by and have my wife upset by such a cruel comment," Matthew said, firmly.

"You might have censured him for having made it, rather than overreacting and giving him a cut direct," Lord Anglesey said. "Do you have any notion of the risk you have taken?"

"I am sorry, uncle, but I do not see where there has been a risk. His career is in the church, and mine in the navy – he can have very little influence on my life, even if he has been so angered by the cut as to be vindictive about it."

"I meant in causing scandal for this family," Lord Anglesey said. "How should it look for us, if the cut becomes public?"

"I do not see how it will," Matthew said. "There is no benefit to him in making such a thing known, and I do not believe any of those who were present shall share it. I hardly saw him before, and I shall not see him at all, now."

"And how are you to handle things, now that your families are so interconnected?" Lord Anglesey asked. "You must have already created awkwardness for your hosts at Pemberley, and you can hardly imagine this will be the last time you are all invited to a house party."

"I do not think he will be invited back to Pemberley. Mr. Darcy was as angry as I over his comment. My father was allowed to remain for Mrs. Stanton's benefit, so as not to disrupt the wedding, but that is all."

"Is there any chance of your rescinding the cut? If you wish to write to him, to apologise, I would certainly write a covering letter for you."

"No, it is done, and I shall not go back on it."

Lord Anglesey sighed, and shook his head. "You have needlessly made yourself an enemy, out of your own father."

"I must disagree with you there. There was every need to do what was done."

"Then we shall always disagree on that point. I find this whole business to be very badly done, and I never would have expected to be so disappointed in you, Matthew."

At this comment, Matthew's face, which had been impassive, showed just a little of how tremendously wounding this statement had been to him. Georgiana looked at him with concern and wondered if she should say something in his defence, for she still agreed with him that the action they had taken had been the right one.

In the end, neither of them spoke, for there was a knock at the door, and Lord Anglesey's butler, on being told to come in, said quietly to his master: "Viscount Castlereagh and Mr. Adams are here."

"Send them in once my nephew and niece have left," Lord Anglesey said. "There is no more progress to be made on this topic."

Georgiana and Matthew both rose and made their way wordlessly out of the room and up to the bedchamber they shared. Once he had closed the door behind them, Georgiana embraced her husband and said: "I am sorry that went so badly. I know how important his approval is to you."

"I cannot say I thought it would go well, but I did not realise how strongly he would be against it."

"Nor I," said Georgiana, "but I do still believe we did the right thing."

"I am glad to hear you say so, dearest. I only hope that over time his disapproval will lessen."

"I think that it will." Unfortunately for them, their stay in London was to be of short duration, so Matthew could call on the Admiralty and learn what his next assignment should be when his ship, the Caroline, came out of dry-dock, and thus there was not much time for Lord Anglesey to soften before they would depart for Chatham.

Lord Anglesey did not soften over dinner, nor in the drawing room following it, and when Georgiana woke the next morning and thought of how they should have to face a most cold-mannered earl over breakfast, she began to wonder if she should suggest they depart for Chatham earlier than they had planned. She was overcome, then, by a sensation of nausea, one that showed no signs of lessening, and she rushed from the bed to find an empty voilder.

It _is_ strange for a lady to be overcome by a tremendous happiness, while she is losing her stomach in a porcelain bowl, and yet this was precisely what Georgiana felt. For to be overcome with sickness in the morning meant it was probable she was with child again, and this was the very thing she had been desperately hoping for since she had miscarried her first child. She felt Matthew come up behind her, holding her hair and rubbing her back until she finished, and could turn into his embrace, weeping softly.

"I needed something good in my life right now, and there could not have been anything better, than to think you are with child again," he murmured.

"I am so relieved it happened so quickly. So relieved, and so terribly happy," Georgiana said. "I will have to be very careful – I did feel a little dizzy at times yesterday, but thought it was because of the travel and the discussion with your uncle."

"Bowden has already offered to give you his arm whenever you need to use stairs and I am not at hand."

"And I will take him up on it," Georgiana said, then frowned. "I suppose we are following your father's advice, after all."

"That advice never needed to be given, least of all in the manner it was," he said. "You had never fainted before, and now that you have, we know to go about things differently. Georgiana, please do not dwell on what happened, or his words. Let us make this a happy day."

He rose and helped her to stand, and Georgiana felt a wave of familiar dizziness. It was cause for caution – she knew that now – but it was also further confirmation that she was with child again, and so it lifted her spirits further. Matthew changed for breakfast quickly, but said he would wait outside the room to take her down, and as he and his valet left, into the room came Moll Kelly.

Moll was the younger sister of Elizabeth's lady's maid, Sarah, but quite unlike her sister in personality, which she confirmed yet again when she noted the chamber pot, and exclaimed, "Ay, another bairn on the way for you, then? I'm that glad for you, milady."

"Yes, it is likely that there is, but you should not speak of it until I have," Georgiana said, giving her a mildly censorious look. In truth Moll's breaches in propriety amused her far more than they vexed her, but she still thought it best that Moll learn some manner of boundaries.

"Oh bugg – I mean, I'm sorry, milady, I shouldn't have spoke of it, only I was so happy you should have another after – after what happened."

"Thank you, Miss Kelly. I do appreciate that you are happy for me, but you must remember yourself."

"Of course, milady."

Whatever else might be said about Moll, she was a hard worker and had been thoroughly trained by her sister, so that rather quickly, Georgiana was stepping outside the door to the bedchamber, to take up Matthew's arm.

"Do you think we should tell our uncle?" she asked. "I normally would not suggest it, so early on, but perhaps it might serve as a distraction to have some different news."

"Perhaps we should. Let us see how he is, at breakfast."

Lord Anglesey was seated at the table already, drinking coffee and looking a little more mild-mannered on this morning, which was confirmed when he held up his hand and said: "I do not wish to discuss this business over the cut anymore. You know my stance on it, and I yours, and as none of us is like to budge, all I will say beyond that is that if you do ever wish to take it back, I shall do everything in my power to assist you in reforming the connexion."

"Thank you, uncle," Matthew said.

In great relief did he and Georgiana make their selections from the sideboard and sit down at the table, where Matthew picked up the newspaper and remarked on the embassy to China's having sailed from Portsmouth.

"A fool's errand, if you ask me," said Lord Anglesey, "although the Company is funding it, so at least it should cost our government little beyond the use of a few naval ships."

"Yes," said Matthew, reading on. "The Alceste and a brig, Lyra. But why should it be a fool's errand?"

"Nothing has changed, since the last Embassy, and thus there is no reason to expect any different outcome," Lord Anglesey said. "Diplomacy only works when there is respect. The Alceste is a frigate, is she not?"

"Yes, 38 guns. French-built – she was the Minerve, before she was captured."

"I would have sent a third-rate, at least," said Lord Anglesey. "It is not as though they have anything better to do, with the war over. Let the Chinese see why Britannia rules the waves."

"It might have had to do with navigation. A frigate can get into places a seventy-four cannot."

"You are missing the point, Matthew," said Lord Anglesey, although kindly.

The gentlemen, perhaps remembering that an embassy to China was not the most interesting topic of conversation for the lady at their table, turned the conversation to their plans for the day. Matthew would be calling on the First Lord, while Georgiana intended to call on the Dowager Viscountess Tonbridge and the Gardiners, the only friends of hers she knew to be in town. She was informed that she would already be seeing Lady Tonbridge later that evening, the lady having been invited to dinner, and Georgiana took this as confirmation that the widow and the earl, a widower himself, were still carrying on what had been a longstanding affair.

She thought she should also make an appointment with Dr. Whittling, the accoucheur physician she and Elizabeth both saw when in town, but decided not to mention it to Lord Anglesey just yet. Now that he had offered to put the issue of the cut behind them, it seemed less necessary, and she thought it better to wait until the baby was further along. Thinking about the possibility of another child, now that the initial bliss had passed, made her a little anxious as she thought of Matthew's learning of his next assignment. He had promised her that they should stay together always, and if he was to be sent somewhere she could not go while pregnant, he would have to refuse it. He had said he would do so, and yet Georgiana knew this would not be an easy thing for him.

When Matthew returned from the Admiralty, however, it was with a happy countenance, and Georgiana thought this meant a more favourable assignment than his last, to carry despatches to the Baltic over the past winter. Matthew confirmed her thoughts by saying:

"I have been assigned to carry coin to Gibraltar, and then to serve at Admiral Penrose's discretion there," he said. "With any luck we should have a chance at some time in the Mediterranean, and it is a perfectly hospitable place for you to be, while with child. That is, if you do still wish to live onboard ship in that condition – would you prefer I refuse the assignment?"

"No, of course not. I believe I can be perfectly comfortable living on board the ship, and I should like to see a little of the world before the child is born."

"Good – I cannot say how pleased I am to think of going there together," he said. "And I have not forgotten about our finding a home, either. We shall not have time to do so now, but I will ask my uncle to look out for a suitable purchase. Would you be comfortable giving him leave to do so? If you would prefer to find it ourselves, we may – it would just mean waiting until we return."

"I would be open to his looking out for a purchase, at least," Georgiana said. "There is no guarantee that what we wish for should come available, but if it does while we are gone, I would not want us to miss our chance. You think he would be willing to do this for us?

"Yes, I believe he would. Hampshire is near enough that he can manage the inquiries from town," Matthew said. "And I feel confident again of his willingness to help us as he can. I am so glad things are easy between us again."

"I am so glad of so many things right now," Georgiana whispered, and embraced him.

 


	3. Part 1, Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The weather had been poor that winter, and when it did break, Elizabeth was eager to take advantage of it, so when her husband suggested she return to horseback riding on what looked to be a mild day, she agreed readily.

It was very strange to be back up on Buttercup, the stout old pony Darcy had been teaching her to ride on before her pregnancy had got too far along, and riding along through the woods. Strange, yet also very pleasing, to be breathing fresh, chilly air after having to spend so much time indoors, and to find that all she had learned about riding came back to her quickly.

"You look very well, Elizabeth," Darcy said. "Being out of doors always did become you."

"That, and apparently not wearing a cap," she said.

"Are you to tease me over that, now?"

"I must get some diversion out of using some of my Parisian lace on a cap I shall not be allowed to wear for thirty years."

"If you continue to tease me over it, I might wait for nearer to forty."

"You know that will not stop me."

"I shall just have to distract you, then," he said. "Should you like to try a canter?"

"Yes, I suppose so. I feel quite comfortable," Elizabeth said, and then, for she knew it must be her topic to raise: "In fact, I think once I have practised a bit more on Buttercup, it might be time for me to try Spartan. There is less risk, now that I am no longer with child."

"Indeed?" he asked, and Elizabeth could see he was very pleased by this. "There really was not much risk before – he is a little more challenging than Buttercup, certainly, but still well within your skills. But I am glad you wish to try him now. I do think you will like him, and soon enough Buttercup shall be required for the boys to learn. I think to start them together on Buttercup while I look for a suitable pair of younger ponies. They each must have their own."

"You might hold off a little while before purchasing ponies, Darcy. They can hardly hold their own heads up, yet."

"True," he laughed. "I suppose I am just eager for us all to ride together as a family."

"That would be very nice," Elizabeth said. She had not thought of it before, but the notion of her boys being grown enough to be riding alongside their father and mother on these theoretical ponies was very pleasing to her, although she did not want her sons to grow up _too_ quickly.

Darcy was looking at her expectantly, to begin the canter, for his horse, Kestrel, could very nearly outpace Buttercup's canter at a trot. Elizabeth flicked her whip, to send the pony into a trot, and then again to canter, and Darcy was almost instantaneously up alongside her.

They rode on like this for some time, Elizabeth smiling at the thought that they were very nearly at the end of winter, and the weather should only get better, before she reined the pony in to a walk. It was only when she did so that she noticed Darcy looking over his shoulder with some concern. She followed his glance to see dark clouds on the horizon.

"I do not like the look of that sky," she said.

"I had been thinking the same thing," he replied. "We had better return."

"Yes. I am glad at least we had a little time out here today." Elizabeth turned Buttercup around, so that they could return on the same path they had taken. Now facing the oncoming clouds, she saw they were moving quickly, and began to grow concerned.

"Do you feel up to cantering back?" Darcy asked. "I should hate for us to get caught in that."

It had been nearly a half-year since Elizabeth had last ridden, and since then, she had borne two sons and been forced to stay inside for much of the poor winter. Still, although she was not sure she was physically ready to canter all the way back to the stables, she thought it a better course than getting caught in a cold February rain.

"Let us try," she said, and once again got Buttercup into his canter. Although she had worried a little at her ability to stay at this pace, she found it more exhilarating than painful, to rush along the path with the wind increasingly whipping about her. She urged Buttercup up to such a speed that she found Darcy needed to canter Kestrel beside her, and it was only when they were in the field approaching the stables that she reined the pony in to a trot and then a walk, to enter the yard.

There, Darcy sprang down from Kestrel's back, handed the horse off to a groom, and came over to assist her down. It was only when she went to take her first few steps on the ground that Elizabeth felt the results of her exertions, and said, "Oh my, that was rather too much, too soon."

"Indeed it was – I did not think old Buttercup could still manage a gallop," he said, then turning to the groom who held the pony's reins, "Walk him down well; he has had much more than his usual exertion today."

The groom coughed, which Elizabeth thought might have been his indication that Buttercup's usual exertion in a given day was to consume his hay and oats. The Darcys made to cut through one of the stable blocks to return to the house, but the clouds reached them in a sudden violent downpour of hail, beating loudly on the roof.

"Well, I am very glad of our rushing back, now," Elizabeth said. "I would hate to have been caught in this."

They stood there at the stable door, watching the little glistening balls of ice bounce off the ground, the grooms leading those horses that had been let out in the pastures back at a rapid trot, the horses terribly unhappy at being beaten by the hail. Darcy was silent, and as the hail began to slow, Elizabeth grasped his hand and said, "Are you worried over what this will do to the fields?"

"Yes," he sighed, "the winter wheat particularly. It has already suffered so much rain. I am only glad this was not of longer duration."

As the hail seemed to have stopped, Elizabeth made her first step to return to the house and found him following behind her after a moment's hesitation. She knew Darcy worried over the success of his estate's crops far more than most landowners – more for its impact to his tenants than his own profits, although the latter could never be entirely ignored, for those profits in turn paid the wages of their servants and provided most of the income for those who worked in Lambton and Kympton. There was a whole network of people who owed their livelihood to Pemberley, and she loved her husband for giving this the import it deserved.

* * *

Elizabeth, following a hot bath that removed any last remnants of the winter chill from her person, went down to the saloon and found herself fretted over by both her mother and Jane, who feared she had been caught in the hailstorm. Once she had given them reassurances regarding her safety and seated herself, Elizabeth had a letter given over to her by Pemberley's butler, Mr. Parker.

It was from her sister Mary, and as it was the first Elizabeth had received from her sister since Mary had departed Pemberley as Mary Stanton, off to her husband David's parsonage at Wincham, Elizabeth opened it eagerly, wishing to see how Mary got on in the beginning of her married life, and was pleased to read:

"My dear sister,

"Oh, Lizzy, Wincham is everything I had hoped it would be. It cannot compare to Pemberley, of course, but I find the house to be most comfortable and well-furnished, and the servants have been very good about accepting me as their mistress. I am grateful to you for your advice before I left, about managing the household – I wish mama had spent more time in teaching us of this, but I suppose she was so concerned over finding us all husbands, she did not have time to educate us in what came next.

"We have dined with Lord and Lady Winterley once already, and they are very pleasing company. They asked particularly after Mrs. Nichols, and I was glad to tell them she is in good health and in a very good situation as your nurse at Pemberley, of which they were pleased to hear. David has ordered a new Broadwood pianoforte for me, from London, but it has not arrived yet, and Lady Winterley said I may practice on the one in her drawing-room until it does. She plays herself and was very complimentary of my playing, and to be honest I am glad to have a reason to call on her more frequently, as I really like her company. The other parishioners have been equally kind to me, and although I am still getting a sense of the neighbourhood, I feel it is a place where I can do well.

"My favourite event thus far, though, was to attend services on Sunday. I had at least met some of the neighbourhood by then, but still, it was very strange to be the centre of attention and take up my place as the wife of the rector. You might be thinking that this should not sound like it was my favourite event, but it was, for it was my first opportunity to hear David give his sermon. I expected, of course, that he was good at this, for he is intelligent, and both well-read and well-spoken, but, oh, Lizzy, his sermon was so very good! I was so proud and so happy to be his wife, especially because I could see that everyone respected what he had to say.

"Lizzy, you must know I had no expectations that I should ever marry – I rather thought, as I expect the rest of our family did, that I was like as not to become the spinster of the family. Now that I have married and been joined to such a man, I sometimes feel as though I might burst from happiness.

"I hope you and everyone at Pemberley are well. Give my love to everyone in our family.

"Your most happy and devoted sister,

"MARY STANTON"

Elizabeth finished Mary's letter with a bewildered smile upon her face. She would never have expected Mary to describe herself as near bursting with happiness, and that she should be so immediately after settling into a new home of which she must be mistress, and in a new place with so many new acquaintances, was tremendously pleasing. It was, Elizabeth thought, an indication of how much Mary had grown ever since she had been acquainted with David Stanton.

It was clear to Jane and her mother that the letter had pleased her very much, and Elizabeth shared its contents with them, omitting Mary's observation that their mother might have better prepared them for managing their households. Mrs. Bennet had become much more reasonable in company since marrying off her daughters, and Elizabeth had no wish to give her cause to return to unreasonableness.

 


	4. Part 1, Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Georgiana sat in the boat beside her husband, glancing out across the Pool of London, filled with the usual Thames traffic of sailing ships, with the lone exception of the smoke-belching monstrosity before her. It was perhaps unfair to call the ship a monstrosity – aside from the funnel in her midsection, sending up puffs of acrid smoke in the morning air, and the large protrusion below it, which held the ship's paddle-wheel, she otherwise had the long, slender lines of a sailing ship.

Yet these new modern contrivances could not be ignored, and Georgiana took up Matthew's arm and asked, nervously, "Are you quite certain it is safe?"

"The Thames and the Margery before her have been plying this route since last summer," he said. "Although I am not certain I should call it _plying_. I hardly know what the term should be for a steam vessel."

Their taking the steamer ship Thames so far as Gravesend had been his idea, not Georgiana's, although she had thought it a fine enough idea in the abstract. Even if she had known entirely what she was agreeing to in travelling on this boat, however, Georgiana would likely have agreed to it anyway, knowing that her husband was eager to see what steam power was like, in propulsion of a ship.

The sides of the Thames were far lower than what Georgiana was accustomed to, so low the ship did not provide a bosun's chair for female passengers. This they learned when the waterman brought his wherry up alongside the steam boat, and one of the workers there indicated Georgiana should climb up the few stairs there. This she might have done nervously, in fear of slipping on her skirts and falling into the Thames, but for Matthew's steady hands on her waist. He assisted Moll as well, albeit with his hand on her arm, and then he and Bowden followed after with the ease of men who had spent most of their lives at sea.

Matthew was told the price: three shillings each for the gentleman and lady to sit in the Best Cabin and two shillings each for their servants, who would be in the Fore Cabin. He gave over a crown and an extra shilling, much pleasing the man who took it, and the Stantons were directed to the Best Cabin. It was well-appointed, and they were offered tea or porter immediately upon settling into a pair of open seats, but within a few minutes of sitting there with the ship wallowing on the swell, Georgiana's morning illness was beginning to get the better of her, and she asked Matthew if they might go above, in the open air. He admitted this to be his preference as well, and they went back above and found a place on one of the benches at the stern.

Georgiana watched as the remainder of the passengers embarked, the majority of them of such wealth as reflected the difference in cost between the steamer and the sailing packets. They brought with them servants, destined for the Fore Cabin like Moll and Bowden, and among them there seemed to be the greatest proportion of curious young gentlemen, like Matthew, than anything else. When all had embarked, there came a tremendous thumping noise from below, and Georgiana anxiously laid her hand down on Matthew's leg. His hand covered hers reassuringly as that first thumping sound was followed by an unnatural chugging and the smell of acrid smoke filling the air, and the Thames shuddered forward. From this first unpromising start, she began to move more rapidly, although never more naturally, and Georgiana slowly relaxed.

Matthew waited until she was gazing comfortably out along the river, as she might have done on a sailing ship, before asking if she minded if he went to see the engine. She told him she did not – she had rather suspected he would wish to do so. He returned coughing and covered in a layer of soot, and Georgiana hoped their trunks were waiting at the coaching inn in Gravesend, as had been planned, for he would certainly need to change his clothes before they continued with their journey. On the steamer, he did not look so bad, for it appeared quite a few other gentlemen had made their own inspections of the engine, but he was certainly not fit for polite society beyond this ship. Georgiana told him he looked a fright, and when he had thoroughly blackened his handkerchief attempting to wipe his face, she gave him hers as well.

The smell of the smoke began to improve on Georgiana, strangely, after the first hour or so – there was a certain pleasantness in its unpleasantness, she thought, rather like a coal fire. Still, the motion of the ship felt so very unnatural to her, pushing through the water with no obeisance to wind or tide, and she wondered how Matthew could be so interested in such a vessel, when he had commanded far more elegant ships.

As they steamed into Gravesend and touched against the quay there, Matthew checked his watch, and said, "London to Gravesend in a little over five hours – she made a steady six knots, as promised."

"I cannot say that I like it," Georgiana said. "A sailing ship is so much more graceful, and more comfortable."

"I agree with you, dearest. I will be very glad to be back on board the Caroline."

"But you were so enthusiastic about taking the Thames!"

"I wished to travel on the Thames because she is the future, whether I like it or not," he said, offering her a sooty arm, which she accepted after some hesitation, scowling at the chalky, dirty feel of his coat.

* * *

Although they had been away from Chatham for some weeks, Georgiana and Matthew had retained their lodgings at the Admiral's Arms there. Once Matthew had changed and Murray had driven them the short distance from Gravesend to Chatham, it took them very little time to settle in to the place which was to be their home for the few days before the Caroline came out of dry-dock and they could take up residence in the captain's cabins. They resumed their social calls as well, particularly to Admiral and Mrs. Russell.

Admiral Russell had been Matthew's captain when he first went to sea and Mrs. Russell had lived on board her husband's ships for many years, making them favoured company for both Georgiana and Matthew. Now, Georgiana found Mrs. Russell's guidance helpful as she prepared for her first time living at sea. Gibraltar could hardly be called far, but it would be the farthest Georgiana had ever been from England's shores, and Mrs. Russell's suggestions on the clothes she should take and the grocery she should order, once the ship was ready to receive it, were invaluable.

The Russells were with her as Georgiana watched the water began flowing into that vast space that comprised the dry-dock, slowly encasing a hull that was once again neat and trim, after having been badly damaged when the Caroline had struck ice in the Baltic Sea. Physically, Georgiana felt unwell, but her mind was much more agreeably occupied in her excitement for the trip she was to take and the child she would have. She could see Matthew on deck occasionally, but he was focused on the safety of his ship as the Caroline was towed out into the Medway, and Georgiana knew this was likely to be all she would see of him until at least the next morning. There was much that needed to be done to prepare the ship for sea, and until it was done, he had indicated it would be best for Georgiana to stay in their apartment at the inn, while he would need to resume his presence within his own cabins.

Georgiana did not mind a night apart. After spending months without Matthew's presence, it seemed a little thing to her, and it gave her and Moll an opportunity to spend the evening going through her trunks to ensure everything was in order. Moll was perhaps even more excited than Georgiana about the journey, but she was beginning to learn to contain her excitement, and only once let loose a stream of horrific language, upon accidentally pinching her finger when closing one of the trunks.

* * *

Georgiana woke once early the next morning, was sick, and attempted to return to sleep, of which she was successful until she was awakened by what sounded like a scuffle in the hallway outside her apartment.

"Ye ain't to go in there 'till milady's risen and dressed," said the voice of Bowden, her footman.

"Come now, Bowden, we'm come for the piano-for-te," said another voice, one Georgiana did not recognise. "We'll be quiet-like."

"You ain't been quiet since the day before you was born, Hancock. An' the captain won't take nicely to you wakin' his lady wife. The captain loves his lady wife, an' that's why I'm to look out for her when he ain't around."

"Leave off, ye swabs!" Now Moll's voice was added to the argument. "Bugger off and check back in an hour, and if milady is still asleep, ye may check back in another hour. Milady needs her rest."

"I wish I got half so much rest as _milady_ ," said Hancock.

"Well, then it's a shame you was born an ugly dog-faced son of a Portsmouth Poll, 'stead of a lady of quality," said Bowden, although it became clear by the laughter of all in the hallway that the insult had been meant, and taken, as a joke.

Matthew had purchased a square pianoforte for Georgiana that had been especially modified for use at sea, and it had been residing in the sitting room of their apartment at the Admiral's Arms. From the conversation outside, Georgiana gathered that some of the seamen from the Caroline had come to transport the instrument to the ship, and she smiled a little at how her servants had disallowed them of doing so. She rose and checked the time, surprised to see how late it was, although she determined she would wait another quarter-hour before ringing the bell for Moll; she did not wish her servants to think they had not been successful in their attempt to allow her to remain asleep.

Georgiana was eventually dressed, allowing a rather impatient pair of seamen access to her apartment so they could carry off her pianoforte and then her trunks. She took only a little tea and toast for breakfast, then walked down to the Medway with Bowden and Moll. In these circumstances, Bowden was an even more invaluable servant than usual, for he could scan the river with his one good eye and determine which of the boats plying its waters belonged to the Caroline, hailing one of them take them to the ship.

The ship appeared in a much greater state of readiness than she had the day before; her masts were all restored, and once Georgiana had been hoisted aboard in the bosun's chair, she looked up to see Matthew at the top of the mainmast – a height that would have made her dizzy just to think of, even if she was not with child. He was unaffected by such things, however, and waved down to her, then returned to the discussion it appeared he was having with the master, Mr. Travis.

She led Moll into the captain's cabins, which consisted of two smaller cabins, a sleeping cabin and a day cabin, side-by-side and leading to the great cabin at the stern of the ship. Georgiana saw that all her trunks had been laid neatly against the wall in the sleeping cabin, and her pianoforte had been set up and tied tight with a pair of bolts and ropes against the wall in the great cabin, with Matthew's cello case beside it.

Georgiana suffered a few moments' hesitance as to what she should do next – she would have liked to get Moll settled, but although she presumed Matthew would give her maid one of the cabins off the wardroom, she did not know which one it should be. Nor did she know where Moll was to dine, for Georgiana's former maid, Hughes, had been so afflicted with seasickness in her time aboard the Caroline that eating had never been a consideration. Georgiana realised it said much about Moll that she had taken her position and come on board willingly, with nary an inquiry into either of these things. Matthew entered the cabin then, however, carrying a cloth with which he was somewhat effectively wiping what appeared to be tar from his hands.

"Good morning, Lady Stanton. Are you well?"

"I am, now," said Georgiana, "I was a little ill this morning."

"Ah, yes, I am sorry I sent Hancock and Swift over so early for your things; I was not thinking."

"Oh, did they come over early?" Georgiana asked innocently. "I was not at all disturbed."

"Good, I am glad it was no disruption to you," he said. "Are you all settled? For if so, we may show Miss Kelly to her quarters within the wardroom. The master's wife, Mrs. Travis, lives with him in one of the other cabins, and the marines sleep between the wardroom and the rest of the men, so it is the safest place for you, Miss Kelly, although I must make clear you would not dine with the wardroom officers."

Moll could not have learned half of the language she knew without having been around rough men before, and indeed, she looked little concerned for her safety. Moll could be brash and bold, and yet Georgiana did not think a young woman her age could have learned all the ways of the world, nor all the ways of men, and so Georgiana was glad Matthew had made her safety such a consideration.

They went down the companion ladder one deck, Matthew very carefully assisting Georgiana on what was rather a cross between a ladder and a very steep set of stairs, and were now in a space sided by cabins, with a wooden bulkhead further aft of them. Through the wooden window bars of the bulkhead could be seen the wardroom: the dining-table for the officers in the middle, surrounded by little cabins. Matthew pointed out the one which was to be Moll's, and Georgiana thought it to be a miserably small space, particularly as it was so dim, but Moll seemed quite pleased on inspecting it.

"I never had a space to meself before," she said. "My lady, do you think I might have time to go ashore and purchase some fabric, to make a curtain and the like?"

"Of course, I can certainly spare you, so long as there is time before we sail," Georgiana said, looking to Matthew.

"Yes, there is still ample time – it shall be another day or two before we are fully victualled," Matthew said, looking down the length of the ship. "Taylor! John Taylor, there!"

One of the men looked up and came towards them.

"Taylor, this is Miss Kelly; she is my wife's maid, and she wishes to go ashore to purchase fabric. Please escort her in all that she needs, today."

"Yes, sir." Taylor saluted, looked expectantly at Moll, and then the two of them made their way up the companion ladder at a much faster clip than Georgiana and Matthew did, when they returned to the great cabin. Inside, they found Hawke, who was Matthew's valet by land and steward by sea, surrounded by several crates, with more being carried in by Bowden and another seaman.

"It all just arrived, sir, from Pemberley," Hawke said, "I've no idea where we're to put it all, with your stores and what the lady has ordered."

The crates were opened, to reveal fresh pine-apples, cheeses, hams of pork and mutton, a great many jars of preserves, and sacks of dried apricots and currants.

"Well, we certainly shall not starve, on our way to Gibraltar," Matthew said. "Did you ask your brother to send all of this down?"

"No, I did not. It was very generous of him," Georgiana said, and she could not help but think guiltily at how generous he had been, given how she had disappointed Fitzwilliam just before leaving Pemberley, by telling him that she and Matthew intended to settle eventually in Hampshire rather than Derbyshire. It had taken her some time to raise the courage to do so, and she still felt the sting of having disappointed her brother, despite her promises that she would still visit whenever she could. It was very good of Fitzwilliam to set aside his disappointment and send these things to her – unless, perhaps, his aim had been to send her off with a taste of Derbyshire, so as to change her mind.

"You ordered additional grocery as well?" Matthew asked.

"I did – some things Mrs. Russell recommended. Should I not have?" Georgiana realised that she was unsure of her role here; if they had let a house, the management of the meals would certainly have been her responsibility, but in the short time she had lived on the ship before, Hawke had planned the meals under Matthew's direction.

"Do not worry yourself on that account – you should always feel welcome to order whatever you think might aid in your comfort," he said. "I suppose we should have spoken of this sooner – do you wish to manage the meals and the entertainments here in the cabin?"

"Yes, I believe so," Georgiana said. "I would like to have some responsibilities – although perhaps at first we might manage them together. I do not know the dishes that can be done here, versus those Cook did at Pemberley, and I would wish to ensure we maintain the pace of invitations your officers have become accustomed to."

"That sounds very good," Matthew said. "Hawke, for now, if it does not all fit in my pantry, you may store the items that must be ate first in the day cabin."

Hawke and Bowden began to do just that, and as Matthew seated himself at the cabin's table and made to look over a great stack of papers there, Georgiana decided to find her writing desk and write to Fitzwilliam, thanking him for his generosity. She was thus when there came a knock at the door, and Matthew bade whomever it was to enter.

It was his second lieutenant, Holmes, and Georgiana looked at him curiously. He had never been a favourite of hers; the first lieutenant, Rigby, was far more amiable, and the third lieutenant, Egerton, was quiet but good-natured. The latter two men had served under her husband for many years, and she had gathered from Matthew's letters from the Baltic that they were far more competent than Holmes, who had been assigned by the Admiralty for the Caroline's latest commission. It had been Lieutenant Holmes's watch, during which the Caroline had struck ice, and although Matthew had not come out and blamed him directly for the incident, Georgiana suspected Holmes had been at fault. Certainly, his face looked even harder than it had been when last Georgiana had seen him, although he saluted Matthew and said, "Sir, Daniel McClare wishes to speak with you, if you have a moment."

Matthew replied that he did, and a young seaman came in quietly and gave his own salute, saying, "Captain-Sir, while the barky was under her repairs, I sent for me sweetheart, and we was married last week."

"My congratulations to you, McClare."

"Thank ye, sir. Only I wish to know if she can come wi' me."

Matthew asked McClare if he had his marriage licence, McClare replied that he did, and the licence was given over to Matthew for inspection.

"She will be welcome on board, but you know she must share your space."

"Yessir."

"And I would appreciate it very much if you will allow my wife's maid, Miss Kelly, to mess with you and Mrs. McClare."

"Oh, Mrs. McClare will be right glad of the company, I'm sure of it, sir."

When McClare had left, Matthew said, "Well, that solves the last of my problems, with regards to Moll's accommodations. I did not like the thought of her messing at a table full of men, but nor did I think she would like to eat alone in her cabin every night, with the wardroom officers dining so near."

"No, I do not think she would have liked that at all," Georgiana said. "Do you always allow women on your ships?"

"I do, but they must be family – wives or sisters," he said. "The men are nearly always allowed shore leave, and they may do what they choose there, but I will not run a floating brothel."

Georgiana had spent enough time in Portsmouth and Chatham to know what he spoke of – the boats full of miserable, ill-dressed girls that tied up alongside many of the other warships. She tried not to imagine what the scene must have been like, on the decks of those ships where there could be no privacy at all, but it was difficult to banish from her mind.

"Why would any captain allow such a thing?"

"To allow shore leave without much of a ship's crew deserting, the ship must be a happy one, so that the crew have a desire to return after they have drank their fill and poxed themselves sufficiently," he said. "Unfortunately, there are a great many ships in the navy which are not such. But to be in port without the men having opportunity to – well, do what many men most wish to do when they have been apart from female company for so long – most captains find it preferable to mutiny."

"It seems to me that it would be easier simply to have a happy ship," Georgiana said. "But then I suppose not every captain is so good at his role as you."

* * *

Over the course of the next two days, the Caroline completed her preparations for sea. Water was pumped down into the tanks in the hold, and the great casks filled with salted pork and beef were hoisted up and lowered down carefully into that space, along with countless smaller casks, sails, spars, and cordage. Added to these were the purpose for their journey, the little strongboxes of coin which were carried on board by the marines. Georgiana watched what of this she could from the windows of the great cabin; as it was often raining, and chilly even when it was not, she only went on deck for a little while each day and preferred to remain inside, where a coal brazier kept the cabin tolerably warm.

The cabin was a reasonably comfortable space, although Georgiana thought it could be made more comfortable, with a female touch. She had sent Moll back out for more fabric and planned to embroider some cushions for the sofa as her first project. Matthew had, however, already seen to the alteration most necessary for her comfort, in having the carpenter, Mr. Randle, cut loose one panel on the side of each of their cots and install hinges upon those panels, so that the sides could be let down and the two cots lashed together to form one bed when the seas were calm.

Georgiana did not have the luxury of waking beside her husband on this morning, but this was only because he had left their joined cots very early, for this was the day they were to sail. The carpenter had also fitted a small bell within Moll's cabin and run a line up through the deck to the sleeping cabin, and so Georgiana could now ring for her maid as she would have in a house. She dressed with Moll's assistance, ate what little she could, and then, with Bowden minding her ascent, made her way on deck into a steady breeze.

The men were heaving away on the bars of the capstan, as they had so many times over the past few days to bring aboard the supplies, but this time they were bringing up the anchor. She assumed Matthew would be too busy for her company, but she saw Mrs. Travis standing by the rail and went over to greet her. Mrs. Travis was much older than Georgiana, but in their short acquaintance Georgiana had found her to be pleasant company, and as she had also sailed with her husband for many years, Mrs. Travis was able to give a thorough description of all that was happening as the anchors were brought in and the sails sheeted home.

She wondered where Moll had gone to, for Georgiana thought surely the young woman would enjoy this as well, but then she saw her, forward, standing in the forecastle with Rebecca McClare, both of them eagerly watching all that happened. Then came that most beautiful moment, when the combination of tide and wind acted upon the ship, so that it made its first ghostly movement forward, and then began with purpose to glide down the Medway. There was something so very stately and elegant about the ship, with her sails dropping into place, gliding through the water like a swan, something that felt the very opposite of the paddle steamer. Matthew came past, then, and smiled to her, and Georgiana thought he was thinking the same thing as she, although he did not have time to stop and tell her so.

 


	5. Part 1, Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Elizabeth had gone out twice more on Buttercup, on those only days when the weather allowed it, but she believed Darcy when he said that anyone who was able to get old Buttercup up to a gallop was more than ready to try Spartan, and so she had. A few rides on the cob in the safe but muddy confines of the paddock had further built her confidence, and so today, so long as the weather remained clear, she and her husband were going to go out for a ride. She was surprised to see he had another horse saddled for him, rather than his usual mount, Kestrel, and she inquired as to the change in horses after he had helped her up on Spartan.

"Ah, I am sorry – you and old King have not been introduced," he said, patting the horse's neck. "This is Kingfisher – the eldest of my hunters. I believe he is nearly of a pace with Spartan, now, and he is much calmer than Kestrel. Buttercup cares not about Kestrel's antics, but Spartan is a bit more sensitive, so I thought it best if we start him out alongside King."

Darcy was given a leg up, and Elizabeth was appreciative of his thinking, for while no-one would have called Kingfisher placid, he was a great deal calmer than Kestrel, and when they moved into a trot, she found that Darcy was correct that the horses could stay on pace beside each other. Spartan certainly covered more ground at a trot than Buttercup had, although what Elizabeth most appreciated about him was the smoothness of his gait; no longer was she bounced around, as she had been with Buttercup's jittery little trot.

They slowed to a walk after some time, and then Darcy asked her if she would like to canter, and she said she would. This gait, too, was smoother than it had been on Buttercup, and they made their way along for some time before Elizabeth began to grow concerned. She reined Spartan to a walk and said, "I think we should turn back. After last time, I am afraid of our going too far away from shelter."

"There is something I want to show you," he said, "but do not worry – we may shelter there if the weather turns."

Elizabeth would have feared he wished to show her some defect in the fields, due to the hailstorm, or the snow, sleet, and rain that had preceded and followed it for much of the winter, but that his countenance seemed too light for such a thing. So instead she set aside her curiosity and urged Spartan into a trot. Eventually, they came up over a hill, and visible at the top of the next hill was the house at Barrowmere Park.

"You wished to show me Barrowmere Park?" Elizabeth asked. "I have seen it many times already, Darcy."

"No, I wished to show you Pemberley's dower house," he said. "The purchase is complete. We now own Barrowmere Park and what little remains of the rest of its lands."

Darcy was clearly pleased by his statement, and Elizabeth smiled at him, but in truth the thought of owning Barrowmere Park left her a little unsettled. Her husband, and his father before him, had slowly purchased lands from the failing estate, and the completion of this last transaction meant that Pemberley had swallowed up another estate entirely. But the thought that gave her most pause was the notion that the house was to become a dower house, the wings in lesser repair torn down and the main house repaired so that it was habitable once again.

While she loved her husband for thinking to provide for her in such a way, if she did survive him, Elizabeth did not like the thought of surviving him for long, if at all. She wished for them to grow old together, and to never be parted from him long enough to have a need of this house. Still, she knew she must say something in praise of the purchase being complete, and so, attempting to keep her voice from thickening, she said, "It is terribly considerate of you, to have done all of this."

"Someone needed to do so," he said. "My great-grandfather finished building the present house at Pemberley, while my grandfather completed the interior and the grounds, and my father focused on improving and expanding the farms. This shall be my legacy, for future generations."

"And a fine legacy it will be," she said.

" _Will be_ is correct. There is still much work to be done before I will even be willing to let it. I am glad Georgiana did not take it – to attempt such repairs while setting up her first household, and with Matthew from home, would have been a formidable task. Although I suppose if she had taken it, she might not have been on the East stairs when she was, and – "

"Darcy, you cannot think like that." Elizabeth spoke carefully, for their sister had been a particularly sensitive subject for him, of late. "What has happened has happened, and there is nothing we can do to change it. Trying to rewrite the past will only bring you pain."

"I know, but I cannot help but think that Georgiana now avoids her childhood home because it brings her unpleasant memories – now, it is the place where she lost her child. I cannot see why she would want to settle in Hampshire, otherwise. Before, she had intended to settle in Derbyshire."

"Before, she had only her own conjectures on what it would be like to be a naval captain's wife. Now she knows, and she wishes to settle in Hampshire to be nearer Portsmouth," Elizabeth said. "Would there ever be a time she is not welcome at Pemberley?"

"Of course not."

"And do you not think she knows this?"

"I see the direction of your questions, Elizabeth."

"I am glad you do," she said. "I will not say it is easier for you – not when you had to begin managing this estate at the age you did – but it is different for you, as it will be for James. The rest of us, we ladies and younger sons, grow up knowing we must leave our homes. Georgiana's situation is unique, that she has such a range of choice in the location of her household, but there is a great deal of sense in the choice she has made. If you and I were to be parted for months, and you might live somewhere you could see me a few days sooner than you could have otherwise, would you not choose to live there?"

"I would if I could see you even a few hours sooner, so I could sooner have your council when I am not thinking clearly, my clever, lovely Elizabeth."

Elizabeth's eyes filled with tears at this, and she blinked them away, hoping that as they were nearing the drive to the house, he would be distracted and not notice. He did, however, and reined his horse to a halt, saying, "What is it, Elizabeth?"

"You see this house as your legacy, and it is a good and honourable one, so I do not wish to take away from that," she said. "But to me this house means leaving my home again, and in the most painful circumstances."

Elizabeth was glad then that he was riding Kingfisher, for she did not think Kestrel would have stood for what Darcy did then, which was to sidestep his mount closer to hers, and pull her into a one-armed embrace, his other hand still on Kingfisher's reins.

"You once told me we must live our lives in hope, and not in fear," he said. "Whatever happens will happen, but I think it is no better for you to attempt to write the future, than it is for me to rewrite the past. But I will stop referring to it as the dower house, if it helps you avoid thinking of it. It may remain Barrowmere Park, when we speak of it."

"I cannot say _Barrowmere Park_ has entirely positive associations, either," Elizabeth said, for the previous two families to live in the house had been quite vexing, each in their own way. "I think we should give it a new name entirely."

"What would you suggest?"

"I did not make the proposal with a suggestion in mind. Let us think on it."

"We shall think on it, then. Would you like to turn back?"

"Yes, I believe we have gone far enough today."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That is it for today's posting, thanks for reading! I am aiming to do about 5 chapters per day...hopefully every day, although at times life may get in the way. This is a LONG book - longer than any other in the series so far, and its predecessors have not exactly been short. So hopefully at this pace we will be through in a few weeks.
> 
> Again, feedback and constructive criticism highly welcomed.


	6. Part 1, Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Georgiana had lived on board the Caroline on a Sunday once before, but as the ship had been at anchor in Portsmouth harbour, they had taken a boat to shore and attended services there. This first Sunday of the ship's being under sail for Gibraltar, then, was her first experience with the rigging of church and all the other rituals that took place on the Sabbath while the ship was at sea.

She had slept late, as she usually did now, but found Matthew had either waited for her in the cabin, or – more likely – returned after some time on deck, to sit with her as she did what little breaking of her fast she could.

"It is quite a wet day out," he said, "but we have rigged an awning for church; it should help protect you from the rain, but I'll have Bowden bring up an umbrella, in case the awning soaks through."

"Thank you, that is very considerate of you."

"We will have divisions, first. You need not come up for that if you do not wish to."

That particular ritual, of all the men lining up for inspection by their captain, Georgiana had seen and did not feel the need to see again in the rain, so she told Matthew she would remain in the cabin for that portion of the morning.

"I will send Bowden down for you, when we are ready for the articles and church," Matthew said. "Is Moll a Papist?"

"I – I do not know. Her sister did always attend services at Lambton when we went, but she did not have any other options in our neighbourhood, for spiritual nourishment. I will ask her."

"Very well. We have a small group of men on the ship who are not Church of England – a few are not even Christians at all – and they stay on the fo'c'sle in prayer or whatever their own form of worship is, during church. Moll is welcome either to attend services, or sit with them, whatever her preference."

When Georgiana applied to Moll, the maid confirmed her Catholicism but said, "Sarah told me I must keep me mind open, an' that the differences ai – aren't so very big, if ye come with an open mind. I will listen to yer Protestant service, at least this once or twice."

Thus when the time came, all four of the ladies took their seats together beneath the awning, after Bowden came down to fetch Georgiana and help her up the companion-ladder. The seamen all stood behind the ladies, the officers beside them, and Matthew stood before everyone, waiting until a certain stillness indicated all had settled, and then began,

"Article 1: All commanders, captains, and officers, in or belonging to any of His Majesty's ships or vessels of war, shall cause the public worship of Almighty God, according to the liturgy of the Church of England established by law, to be solemnly, orderly and reverently performed in their respective ships; and shall take care that prayers and preaching, by the chaplains in holy orders of the respective ships, be performed diligently; and that the Lord's day be observed according to law."

He continued through thirty-five articles, his voice as solemn as Georgiana had ever heard from him, which, for someone as serious as Matthew was generally, was very solemn indeed. They were a solemn set of regulations, however, dealing with spies, cowardice, desertion, mutiny, and a whole host of other terrible acts, for which the punishment was generally death.

When he had finished, it seemed to Georgiana that church would be a light occasion by comparison, and she was surprised to see Hawke come up to her husband and exchange the papers he had been holding with a new set of papers and a prayer-book. Of course she had never been introduced to a chaplain, and if there was not a chaplain, whom else should lead his men in spiritual matters, as he did all the rest?

Matthew was rather good at preaching, and Georgiana felt a rush of indignation as he led them through a prayer and two psalms, that his father had criticised him for not making the church his profession, and yet here Matthew was, leading a group of men far larger than would be found in most parish churches in worship. She wondered if he would attempt a sermon, and when he came to that part of the service, he said, "Today's sermon was first given by the Reverend David Stanton on February the 19th, 1815," and then began reading from the papers in front of him. Georgiana smiled, and understood he must have arranged that his brother send copies of David's sermons for this particular use.

It was a very good sermon, and it was clear by the attentiveness of the men around her that Georgiana was not the only one to think so. She chanced a glance over at Moll, and saw the young woman was equally attentive, listening carefully, and likely critically. Matthew closed with the Lord's Prayer, and Georgiana thought his father might not have been proud of him, but she most certainly was.

When the service was over, the seamen were dismissed to spend the rest of their day at leisure. Matthew came over to Georgiana to attend her back below decks, but before he could do so, Moll was saying to him, "Sir, that was a right good sermon, there. I did'na expect to like a service o' your church near so much as I did that one. I won't say I'm to convert or anything like, but I'll attend yer services so long as I'm here."

"Thank you, Miss Kelly," Matthew said. "The compliments for the sermon are due to my brother, and I shall pass them on in my next letter to him."

When he and Georgiana were returned to the privacy of the cabin, she said, "I was impressed by your giving of the service as well. I had no idea you did this."

"It is not such a difficult thing, when I mostly read the words of others," he said.

"Are there not enough chaplains in the navy?"

"What do you mean?"

"The first article in the Articles of War – you spoke of chaplains of holy orders, and yet obviously there is not one on this ship. I suppose I thought there must be a shortage of them, and perhaps the ships of the line take precedence in this as they do other things."

"That is not actually the case," he said. "You will soon find that some things are not quite so firm as they are laid out in the articles, while others are very firm indeed. This is one that is not so firm – many captains do not carry a chaplain on board their ships, because the hands are superstitious and believe it brings bad luck. There are a few, your blue light captains and admirals, who always carry a clergyman and make religion a matter of great importance, but they are the exception rather than the rule. When I first received my own command, I chose to hold services, but do them myself. David gives his advice and sends me copies of his sermons, and because of his assistance, I do not fear my men suffering a shortage of spiritual nourishment."

"Indeed they do not," Georgiana said. "Rather the opposite, I would say, although I wish you would give yourself some credit in the matter."

There came a knock at the door to the cabin, then, which turned out to be Hawke, wishing to speak with them about dinner. They invited him to enter, so they could continue Georgiana's education on what dishes could be made at sea.

* * *

The next morning, Georgiana found herself being awakened gently, but still unnaturally.

"Georgiana, Georgiana." It was Matthew, saying her name and grasping her shoulder, but she had been sleeping deeply, and was too disoriented to understand much more beyond this at first.

"I am sorry to wake you," Matthew said hoarsely, "but we need to ensure you are not hurt."

"Hurt? Why should I be hurt?" she asked, and then, with a tremendous sinking in her stomach, she rose up in her cot just enough to see that her nightgown was soaked in blood, which prompted her to go into a panicked flailing, as though it would get her away from the blood, away from the truth of what must have happened, as she cried, "No, no, no, no, no, no, no!"

When she next became aware of herself, she was kneeling on the floor of the cabin in Matthew's arms, sobbing wretchedly. She heard Clerkwell asking if she was well, and Matthew saying she was well enough for now and to return later, which Clerkwell said he would, with a laudanum draught.

"How could this have happened?" she asked. "I was so careful – I do not know what else I could have – "

"Georgiana, there was nothing you could have done. It happened while you were asleep. I woke to find you as you are," Matthew said, weeping himself.

"Is there something wrong with me? What if something happened when I lost the first child?"

"I cannot believe there is anything permanently wrong with you, but perhaps we did not allow your womb time enough to heal after losing the first baby in such a violent manner. Or perhaps this is completely unrelated. Given your family history, we may need to expect this will happen again."

"What do you mean?"

"Georgiana, there is ten years' difference in age, between you and your brother. I must assume your parents were attempting to have children in all that time, or that they did have more children, and those children did not survive."

Georgiana recognised the rightness of what he said, and was not sure whether she found it reassuring or more saddening. Fitzwilliam had been born three years after their parents were married, as well, and so perhaps Matthew was even more correct in his conjecture than he knew – if she took after her mother, she might need to come to expect much more of this. The thought of it pained her terribly, and she buried her face in Matthew's shoulder and returned to weeping.

At least he was here, she thought; at least they were together. After the pain of what she had experienced over the winter, of losing their child without his being there to comfort her and absolve her guilt over what had happened, his presence here was more soothing than anything else could have been.

"Someday, Georgiana," he said, softly, "someday you and I will be watching our children, and I will remind you of this day, and it will seem like naught but a bad memory."

"I hope so," she said, and wished desperately that he was right.

 


	7. Part 1, Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Catherine Ramsey had not liked Bath at first. When she and her husband first entered the city, it had been after a fortnight spent with his family in Salisbury, who, although they might not be quite so well-mannered as the company Catherine had become accustomed to, were every bit as jovial as her husband and enjoyable to be around, particularly after one had got used to them.

Compared to those happy homes in Salisbury, Bath had seemed a cold, unfriendly place to her, the facades of all its fine buildings dripping with rain more often than not. They had come into town having made that nearly insurmountable error of society – coming into a place in which they had no acquaintances, and were not of such a standing that people immediately wished to be acquainted with them.

The theatre had been fine enough, in their first week there, but Catherine had hated going to the Upper and Lower Rooms and dancing only with her husband, or the Pump Room, where they would drink a glass each of foul-smelling water and then stroll around, recognising and being recognised by no-one. She had begun to wonder how long they should have to stay before she could suggest they go somewhere – anywhere – else, although she thought Andrew was beginning to sense her dissatisfaction with the place and might suggest it himself. Such thoughts saddened her, because Bath had always been his plan as a place for them to settle after marrying. When he had put it to her, it had sounded like a good one, but it was approaching the point of failure.

Then one morning, as they had been walking in the Pump Room, Andrew stopped abruptly and waved to an acquaintance across the room, leading Catherine over to that acquaintance.

"Elliott, how do you do?" Andrew asked, shaking his hand energetically, and even before he had introduced Elliott as Captain Elliott, with whom he had served as mid on HMS Centaur, Catherine had already come to expect the man was a naval acquaintance.

Captain Elliott was of the same sort of good humour that Andrew was, and never short of amusing anecdotes of the sorts of trouble the two young boys had got up to together as midshipmen. Yet his greatest quality in Catherine's eyes was that he had married an outgoing, amiable young lady, Louisa Elliott. As Catherine was also of an outgoing temperament, the two young ladies had made overtures of friendship even before the two couples had agreed to dine together that evening.

How very different Bath was, with female companionship! Louisa – the young ladies had rapidly come to address each other by their Christian names – enjoyed shopping every bit as much as Catherine, and they spent their mornings after the obligatory turn about the Pump Room in this pursuit. As Catherine had married more quickly than anyone had expected she would – her father had been ill, and she and Andrew were the best choices to assist her family at Longbourn, but could only travel together if married – she had acquired very little in the way of a wedding trousseau, but had been promised by both her mother and her husband that she should have one, even if it was belated. She and Louisa, therefore, had a true purpose to their outings, and if Captain Elliott complained his wife was accumulating a second trousseau, in finding things she simply could not live without while accompanying Catherine, the amused look of his countenance indicated he was not too serious in his complaints.

Other acquaintances followed: more men of the navy and their wives, although Catherine thought Louisa should always remain her particular friend, and even some who were introduced to them through the Masters of Ceremonies, Mr. King and Mr. Heaviside. While the Ramseys were not of a standing as to move in the top echelon of Bath society, they came to be known as connected by marriage to the Cheshire Stantons and the Derbyshire Darcys, and beyond that, they were said to be lively, pleasant company, so that within a month of being at Bath, they had gathered a substantial acquaintance.

They were, of course, still a married couple on their honeymoon, one that enjoyed marital relations more, perhaps, than other couples, and one morning when they had finished their most recent instance of such, Andrew kissed his wife and said, "How do you like Bath now, my pretty Cat?"

"I like it very much."

"I am glad of it. I believe it was a near-run thing when we first came here. I do not believe you liked it so much, then."

"I cannot say that I did, but I am in a fair way to loving it, now," Catherine replied.


	8. Part 1, Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

What, precisely, had occurred in the captain's sleeping cabin, the day of Georgiana's miscarriage, had not been made known to the ship's crew. Yet although the exact details were not known, it was not long before what _was_ known had spread through the ship: Mr. Clerkwell had been called early in the morning because the captain's wife was ill, and returned several times throughout the day; the captain himself had not left the cabin except for a few brief conferences with Lieutenant Rigby to ensure all was well with the ship; and Kelly had quietly thrown a bloodstained lady's nightgown overboard.

With these clues, the cleverest among the ship's crew had likely guessed what had happened. The less clever knew only that since that day Lady Stanton's brief appearances on deck had shown her to be pale and gaunt, her countenance nearly expressionless, and that their captain had replaced his usual expression of kind seriousness with one of grim sadness, similar to the one he had beheld in Copenhagen a few months previously. They knew as well that in the great cabin in the evenings, the sound of pianoforte and cello mingled together could no longer be heard, which was further indication that the captain's wife was unwell. The Carolines, nearly to a man, had all served and fought alongside their captain for many years, they had cherished his baronetcy as a result of their greatest battle, to take a French seventy-four with the fifty-gun HMS Jupiter, and they in turn (incorrectly, for she had loved him before that event) esteemed his wife, seeing her marriage to their captain as a reward for that victory and baronetcy.

The Carolines, therefore, were most careful in their behaviour, seeking to avoid giving their captain anything else to worry over beyond the health of his wife, and as they were very nearly all able seamen, who knew what they would be commanded to do well before the command came, they were generally successful in this attempt. Unfortunately for them, there was one exception amongst the crew – one man who had not their competence when it came to seamanship: Lieutenant Holmes. Despite their attempts to spare him worry, their captain had returned fully to his duties, although perhaps with a shorter temper than he had possessed before, of which the Caroline's second lieutenant bore the brunt. Minor errors in the ship's sail trim, which might before have been overlooked, were now thoroughly criticised in the great cabin. These criticisms were legitimate, although not delivered so delicately as they might have been at another time, and they generally ended in unspoken frustration from both the captain and his second lieutenant.

These matters were set aside only because the ship suffered the effects of a violent storm, such that her captain was on deck nearly the entire time for three days, returning to his cabins only long enough to eat a little and see how his wife was faring, which was no better or worse than she had been before the storm. Lieutenant Holmes cannot be said to have acquitted himself any better during the storm than he had before it, but under her captain's watchful eye, the ship came through with little worse than a fished mizzen and two sails lost, along with some minor damage to her rigging.

It was under Lieutenant Egerton's watch that the ship sailed into Gibraltar, freely and elegantly, not pressed down by too much sail on her bowsprit and foremast, as was Lieutenant Holmes's tendency. She picked up the harbour pilot, she came in as a crack frigate should, and gave her salute with the exact promptitude that should be expected from such a ship.

Georgiana, watching all of this from the quarterdeck, wished once again that she could shake the fog that had enveloped her since that horrid day. She had wanted to travel to new places and here she was, looking up at such an amazing mountain, towering over the town and sea before it, in a warmer climate than the cold, steady drizzle that had seemed to comprise so much of their journey here. Yet she could muster no enthusiasm for their landfall. She thought of Paris, where she had travelled with Matthew after they had been married, and how happy she had been then, to be newly married to the man she loved, experiencing the continent for the first time. She longed to be so happy again, and yet it seemed even her memories could not dwell on such happiness, for she thought back further, to the Hundred Day War, to the times when Matthew's life and love had been in doubt.

That time had been worse – so much worse – she realised. If he had died, if he had not returned her love, how very sad life should be for her now, even considering the children she had lost. They could try again for another child, but there was only one Matthew, and she was with him now and had his love. This, Georgiana thought, this must be the thing she should always remind herself of, when difficult times came – and if Matthew was right and she took after her mother when it came to bearing children, they might come with some frequency. Matthew was worried about her, terribly worried, she knew, and she needed to start trying to shake this fog, she needed to attempt to be happy for what she did have, for his sake and her own.

Matthew was approaching her, dressed in his full uniform, and when he was near enough, he laid his hand on her arm and said, "I must go and see the admiral. I am not sure how long I will be."

Georgiana nodded, and said, in as hopeful a tone as she could muster, "Perhaps, when you return – if there is daylight enough – we might have a walk around, on shore?"

Matthew brightened at this, her first interest in anything since she had lost the child, and said, "Yes, of course. And if there is not daylight enough, we shall go tomorrow morning."

He was gone for the better part of two hours, and when his barge had hooked on to the Caroline and he had come up the side, he seemed to have a startled countenance. He saw Georgiana standing on the quarterdeck, awaiting his return, and indicated she should come down to the cabin with him. She did, and they were seated on the stern cushions, but he seemed at a loss for some time, until finally he took a deep breath, and spoke:

"The Alceste has been lost."

"My God, what happened? What of her crew, and the embassy?"

"During the storm, she ran afoul of a homeward-bound Indiaman, and was badly damaged. They tried to bring her into Funchal, but she could not be saved. Fortunately, the Indiaman was able to swim, and took off most of the crew and the men of the embassy. Six men were drowned, but that is an incredibly small number, for such an event."

"Thank God for that," Georgiana said. "But you seem concerned – what is the matter?"

"The Caroline is to replace her, in her mission," he said, running his hand through his hair in a most agitated manner. "The men of the embassy hired a schooner to bring them around to Gibraltar, to see what might be done about continuing their journey. Admiral Penrose knew he was due a frigate and indicated they should have use of it. They have been eagerly awaiting our arrival."

"Just like that, Admiral Penrose can order you to China?" Georgiana asked, as shocked as he had looked, and struggling to process this notion of the ship's going halfway around the world, rather than staying here.

"We were to be used at his discretion, and those are his orders," Matthew said, standing, and walking the length of the cabin in the stooped manner required of a tall man. "I know not what to do. I do owe a duty to my men, but my greater duty is to you, and I made you a promise, that we should never be parted. I had every intent to keep it, but I do not think I can be released from this assignment. There is no other that can take it; Maxwell, of the Alceste, might eventually, but he must first have a court-martial for the loss of the ship, and they are eager to depart. I will make the request, but if the request is not granted, my only option is to resign the service, and I do not even know if my resignation shall be accepted. I may be forced to leave you. Georgiana, I am so sorry – I never thought there would be a way in which I would have to break my promise to you."

His distress was so great she grew emotional with him, but Georgiana found she sounded strangely calm as she said: "Please do not worry over it any longer, Matthew. We will not be parted, for I shall go with you."

"Georgiana, are you quite certain? We are likely to be gone for more than a year – you would not see your family or friends, or have the comforts of your own country, in all that time."

"I will not say that it will not be difficult, to be so far from my family," she said, her voice wavering with tears at the thought, "but it is the best alternative. Your promise was that we should stay together, and we shall. I will _not_ be parted from you for a twelvemonth."

Gently, she reached out and embraced him, seeking to calm and reassure him, deeply moved that he had been willing to resign the service to keep his promise, even in this scenario he could never have foreseen.

"You must tell me if you change your mind, after you have had a chance to think on it," Matthew said. "I know this must have come as a shock."

"I am not going to change my mind," Georgiana whispered, and for once she felt torn in her emotions over the baby, for surely if she would not have lost it, Matthew would have tried much harder to convince her to return home.

* * *

Georgiana's desire to walk on shore had been forgotten, in the news of the Caroline's being ordered to China and Matthew's need to discuss the ship's new mission with his officers. He mentioned it again over breakfast the next morning, however, and promised they should go as soon as she was ready – they would have their walk, and speak further on what she might need for a journey so long.

They were accompanied in the barge by Moll, Hawke, and Bowden, all of them by now having been informed that the ship was now to go to China and they were not likely to have any more than a fortnight to acquire all that would be needed for such a journey. Upon reaching the town, Georgiana found it to be small, but with every civilised appearance, rising a little way up the base of the mountain, and in possession of the same sorts of shops and establishments that could be expected of an English town of its size.

She made note of the stores selling fabric and thought to return to them later with Moll, for certainly she would have time during such a long journey for the projects she had planned, in decorating the captain's cabins. They found a shop where music could be purchased, and spent the better part of an hour there, then did the same at a bookseller, for Matthew warned her they were not likely to find much in the way of either music or books beyond the Cape, and so anything she thought might provide her with some entertainment during the journey should be purchased now.

Upon leaving the bookseller, they passed a tailor's shop, which, based on its window display, seemed to have some specialty in naval uniform. Matthew asked if she would mind terribly if they stopped, so he could be measured for new uniform jackets.

"Of course we may," Georgiana said. "Is there something the matter with your others? The one you are wearing seems perfectly fine."

"I shall require an admiral's uniform for this mission."

"I do not understand – you are much too far down on the captain's list to be made," Georgiana said, for as a post captain, his promotion to the next rank would be entirely dependent on seniority, which seemed to her one of the largest oddities in a profession filled with them.

"You are correct, but while I am in command of our little squadron – we shall meet the brig Lyra and an Indiaman, the General Hewitt, at the Cape – I am to be a commodore, and a commodore wears an admiral's uniform. It is a temporary command, only."

"Even if it is temporary, is this not a good thing? I would have thought you would be more excited over such a command."

"I would be more pleased by it were the circumstances different."

"Well, I am pleased by it," Georgiana said. "Matthew, I hope you will not continue to be so concerned over this voyage and what it means for us. I know you gave me the option to change my mind, if I did so on reflection, but I find on reflection that I am looking forward to the journey. I had wished to see the world, and now I am to see far more of it than I expected. And perhaps the distraction of these preparations was what I needed."

"Do you mean that, Georgiana? You do look far better than you have."

"I do mean it. Let this be our grand adventure together," she said, and led the way into the shop.

* * *

They made their return to the ship to find many of the seamen gazing up at the sky with some degree of satisfaction, where a larger pennant than the ship's usual one was fluttering in the wind. Georgiana suspected it had something to do with Matthew's being a commodore, and had this confirmed when Bowden said, "Aye, the broad pennant – the captain's a commodore, now!"

They found, as well, a thin, unkempt-looking young man, who had been waiting in the great cabin. Georgiana wondered that he had been allowed to wait here with no supervision as the young man stood, saluted her husband, and said: "I do not know if you remember me, sir – "

"Of course I remember you, Grant," Matthew said. "You will not have met my wife, Lady Stanton."

"I am very pleased to meet you, Lady Stanton," said the young man, offering her a scraggly bow.

"And I you, Mr. Grant."

"Now, please be seated, and tell me how you have come to be in Gibraltar," Matthew said.

"I was a master's mate on the Bulwark in the last war, sir, in the Med. When we had news of the peace, and that we was to return to Pompey to be decommissioned, Captain Haddington suggested I might have better luck finding another place was I to remain in Gibraltar, rather than competing with all the other young gentlemen in Portsmouth."

"I had thought you passed for lieutenant," Matthew said.

"I did, sir, but I have no interest – begging your pardon, sir, aside from yourself and Captain Haddington. I have not been able to find another place as a master's mate, or a mid, as it turns out."

"You have been here since the end of the last war?"

"I have, sir. I'm only thankful for my prize money, or I know not what I would have done about my board. When I heard the Caroline was here, and with you in command again – oh, and, sir, I have not complimented you on the Polonais, for what a victory that was, and how I wish I had been there! – I thought to come out straightaway and see if you had room in your midshipmen's berth."

This was delivered by Mr. Grant in a nervous rush, and when he had finished speaking, he looked to Matthew in a mixture of hope and fear.

"I will always make room in my midshipmen's berth for a young man with your qualities in seamanship, Mr. Grant, but in this particular case I will be very glad to bring you on, for we have been unexpectedly ordered to China and I am sure Mr. Travis will be in need of more assistance, for such a journey."

It was a tremendously pleasing thing, for Georgiana to see the relief that overtook young Mr. Grant's countenance, and it must have been even more so for her husband. With every expression of happiness and pleasure at returning to the Caroline, Grant made to take his leave, but before he could do so, Matthew had stopped him and asked if he had enough money to purchase a proper uniform, for although Matthew would not say it, the one Grant wore was in horrible shape. Grant replied that he had his best uniform stored at the Red Bull Inn, where he worked sometimes when they had need of extra help, to cover his board there. Matthew took out his purse anyway and gave the young man some money, saying it was an advance on his pay and he would do best to procure anything he needed for such a journey, then return to the ship to begin his duties. For this, Matthew was thanked profusely, and following another salute, Mr. Grant left the cabin.

"One of my mids, working at an _inn_ , when he would have made as fine an officer as any I've had," Matthew said, in a disgusted tone. "What sort of world have we come to?"

"One where Mr. Grant now has a place on the Caroline, thankfully," Georgiana said. "What did you mean by saying he had passed for lieutenant?"

"There is an examination, which all young gentlemen must pass, which means they have the qualifications necessary to be a lieutenant, although it does not automatically mean they are promoted as such. Those with connexions will gain their promotion quickly, but the rest must hope for some action in which they can distinguish themselves. I wish Mr. Grant had been with us for the Polonais, for if he had fought well – and I have no doubt he would have – that might have been sufficient for me to aid him in a promotion, as I did for Campbell and Egerton. But I doubt he could afford to be on shore for so long as we were – I expect he sought a new position as a master's mate as soon as the Caroline was decommissioned."

"What a complicated world the navy is."

"It is no more complicated than the rest of the world. At least in the navy, a man does have some opportunity of advancement based on merit, and a chance to win his fortune. Both certainly appealed to me when I was a boy, although I cannot deny that I had a great deal more interest in my quarter than most young men do, thanks to my uncle."

They were interrupted, then, by Lieutenant Egerton's coming in and passing on an invitation from the admiral to dine aboard his ship that evening, where they would be introduced to Lord Amherst and some others of the delegation. Matthew told him to inform the admiral that they would be pleased to do so, but rather than leaving immediately, Lieutenant Egerton looked to his captain with rather a more eager expression upon his face than Georgiana had seen before, asking if Mr. Grant would be joining them on their journey. He was informed that Grant would be coming on as a master's mate, and left with a happy countenance.

"He and Grant were particular friends in the midshipmen's berth," Matthew said, sighing. "I only hope they can still be so, despite the difference in their ranks."

* * *

Georgiana had originally excluded ballgowns and dinner dresses from her trunks, when she had directed Moll as to what to pack for the journey, thinking them to be of little use aboard a ship where Matthew's officers would not know or care about lady's fashions. Mrs. Russell, however, had advised that it was likely she would be invited to dine aboard other ships, including those of the flag officers, and that invites to dinners and possibly even balls ashore might come to her. She had, therefore, had Moll pack another trunk with two ballgowns and a larger number of dinner dresses, and it was in one of these that she and Matthew were rowed in his barge, to HMS Bombay. Georgiana had seen a 74-gun ship before, but this was the closest she had ever been to one, and she was astounded by the size of it even before she was swung up in the air on the bosun's chair to a height much more substantial – and more frightening – than she was used to.

She was set gently down upon the deck, however, and Matthew was already there to assist her and introduce her to the man who stood before her, like him wearing an admiral's uniform.

"Admiral Sir Charles Penrose, please meet my wife, Lady Stanton."

"A pleasure, Lady Stanton, and a rarer one at that," said the admiral. "It is not so often as we sailors would like that we are able to take a lady in to dinner on board our ships."

"I am very pleased to meet you as well," Georgiana said. "May I ask how you would prefer I address you?"

"Ah, yes, your husband has one of these great mouthfuls of a name as well, so you are used to these things," the admiral said. "Not, I am sure, that he was any less desirous of his title than I of mine, although mine is a slightly more recent creation. I do still prefer Admiral Penrose, although I shall admit to a certain satisfaction in signing the letters after my name."

"As would any man, I am sure," Georgiana said.

"Shall we?" Admiral Penrose offered his arm and led her and Matthew to the area of the deck where a group of gentlemen were standing, most of them dressed in civilian clothes, although there was one man in a captain's uniform. This man was introduced as Henry Bazeley, the captain of the flagship, but the rest of them belonged to the embassy. Lord Amherst was introduced to her first as the Embassador Extraordinary, a handsome man, although not so much so as Matthew, to Georgiana's eye and heart. He was followed by Mr. Ellis, the Secretary of Embassy; The Honourable Jeffery Amherst, a page; Reverend John Griffith, the chaplain; and several other men who all held roles within the embassy. They were informed that Mr. Akers, the embassy's surgeon and naturalist, had been unavailable to dine with them that evening, and would be introduced on some other day.

With the introductions made, they went down to the admiral's suite of cabins, into a great cabin much larger than that of the Caroline and with a table laid in the highest quality. Georgiana felt quite strange, to be the only woman amongst such a large group of men – when Matthew had smaller groups of officers to dine with him, Mrs. Travis might be absent from their table, but never with a group of this size. They all seemed to be most gentlemanlike in their manners, however, which gave her some reassurance, for if she was to preside over Matthew's table for such a group, she wished them to be good company. She observed carefully what the admiral did, and what was served, for hints upon how she might do things.

After the soup, Admiral Penrose turned to her and said, "Has Captain Stanton secured your passage back to England yet? If not, please let me know if I may be of assistance, for he has done us quite a turn. I do not know what I would have done if I had to detach one of our existing frigates, with the situation in Algiers."

"I – I am not returning to England," Georgiana said. "I shall continue on with Captain Stanton."

Although larger than the dining table of the Caroline, the table was still small enough that any who wished to attend to this conversation could do so, and it seemed most of the gentlemen had interest in attending to it, which made Georgiana blush.

"Are you indeed?" asked Admiral Penrose. "Well aren't you a rare plucked 'un? I had no difficulty convincing Lady Penrose and my children to join me in Messina and Naples, but I should like to see the look on her countenance if I asked her to go to China. Pray tell, where are you from, Lady Stanton?"

"From Pemberley, in Derbyshire."

"Well, then I know where I shall recommend all the single captains of my acquaintance should go, when they are on leave. Go inland, to Derbyshire, I shall tell them, if you are in want of a wife!"

This occasioned a good deal of laughter down the entire table, and Georgiana blushed still further, although she liked that Matthew was gazing at her with some goodly degree of pride. Their attention soon turned from her to her husband, and it was not long until he was being asked to recount his action in capturing the Polonais. Georgiana had heard this retelling so many times she could have told it herself very nearly as accurately as Matthew did, but it still pleased her. She had understood from Matthew that Lord Amherst and Captain Maxwell had been friends, and in addition to the inherent trauma that must have come from the tragedy involving the Alceste, it surely must have been a disappointment to Lord Amherst that the new captain for his voyage was someone unknown to him. She wished Lord Amherst to know that Matthew was good and brave, someone to be respected and trusted, and was glad to see the baron seemed to be attending the account most closely.

There were a great many dishes and toasts before the dinner should wind to its end and they should all be deposited on the barges which would return them to the Caroline, for Georgiana and Matthew, and shore, for the embassy. After settling into the Caroline's barge, she overheard Captain Bazeley call out to the men of his barge that they should row dry, and as the men of the Caroline began rowing, she asked Matthew, "Why do you not tell your men to row dry?"

"Because I have a first-rate coxswain, who knows without my telling him so that if my wife is on board my barge, my crew should row dry. Is that not so, Cooke?"

"'Tis true, sir. Ain't no time since I or Bowden before me has been cox'un that the captain's lady wife nor the captain hisself has got splashed, and we ain't ta start ta'night."

* * *

The next morning, Georgiana found Matthew working furiously with pencil and paper at the breakfast table. She asked him what he was about, and he said, "Do you recall how many gentlemen were introduced to you, last night? Do you have any notion of where all of them are to sleep, on a frigate of this size? For if you do, I should greatly value your thoughts."

"I cannot admit that I have had any thoughts on it," Georgiana said.

"I shall give the day cabin over to Lord Amherst, and I am of hopes that his son can share the space with him. We shall all treat the great cabin as our drawing-room, where anyone who wishes to may sit, during the day. That does, however, mean I may need to have a private conference in our sleeping cabin with one of my officers on occasion."

"If you need to do so, just inform me so, and I shall go to the great cabin or on deck," Georgiana said.

"Thank you, dearest – that does away with one of my concerns," he said. "My next is that I do not believe I can continue to keep Moll Kelly in a private cabin."

"Where would she sleep?" Georgiana asked, in a tone of deep concern. "Not amongst the men!"

"No, of course not. I thought we might sling a cot for her in the great cabin, in the evenings. It would be a safe place for her, and she must rise early to attend to you, anyway."

"I cannot say she would not be disappointed at losing her privacy, but I think she would consider it an acceptable trade, to see so much of the world as she will see on this journey."

"That would leave me with four cabins, for the highest-ranking men in the embassy. I believe we can construct some manner of temporary bulkhead, before the wardroom, and those who do not have cabins may sleep there. Normally it is the space of the marines, but they shall have to move forward."

"How can the marines move forward?" Georgiana asked. "I thought the ship was at her full compliment."

"You have come to the crux of my problem, dearest. I need to create more space on my mess deck, where there is none. We shall have to have men sleep on the gun deck, and I think it possible that I should have to get rid of a few guns, at least, to create more space there."

"You do not like that," Georgiana stated, for it was clear upon his countenance.

"No, I do not. I know we are at peace, now, but we were at peace not so long ago, and then returned to war. I do not like the thought of removing some of the teeth from the wolf, so to speak."

"What about carronades?"

"You think exactly as I do." He looked at her fondly, and reached across the table to grasp her hand. "Georgiana, I cannot say how glad I am that you are to come with me on this voyage. This is not the sort of thing I can discuss with anyone else – even to my officers, I must appear infallible, and confident in all matters – and I am so very glad to have one with whom I may speak of my doubts, and receive such a well-informed contribution in return."

"Thank you," Georgiana whispered, blushing, for while she had always known herself to be deeply loved, it is no small thing for a lady to be so deeply valued, and she had been unprepared for such a response to what had seemed to her a simple question.

Matthew seemed to sense he had overwhelmed her, and continued speaking of the carronades and what number of men would need to be shifted where, until she had recovered a little and they were interrupted by Hawke's delivering a note to Matthew. This note turned out to be an invitation from Lord Amherst to dine at his lodgings on shore, which Matthew immediately wrote to accept.

This began a cycle of invitations between Admiral Penrose, Lord Amherst, and the Stantons, so that not a night passed until their final night at Gibraltar without all of the parties dining on the Caroline, the Bombay, or at the house Lord Amherst had let. Only on their final night in Gibraltar, with the Blue Peter flapping gently in the breeze and making clear the ship was to depart with the morning's outward tide, did Georgiana and Matthew dine quietly by themselves in the great cabin. The day cabin had already been made over for Lord Amherst's and his son's particular use, with a very narrow hallway created by Mr. Randall between that cabin and the sleeping cabin, so that those who required access to the great cabin should be able to get there without disturbing the privacy of the two smaller cabins, although they should be required to squeeze around the mizzenmast as they did so.

The ship itself was quiet, as well, half of the crew having been allowed shore leave – the other half had been allowed their run on shore the evening before. Among the half out on this evening were Moll Kelly and Rebecca McClare, the former having asked her employer in as nervous a manner as she was capable of if she could go out that evening with Mrs. McClare and her husband, promising she would be back in time to change Georgiana.

Georgiana had encouraged her to go, so long as she stayed with Mrs. McClare, and Moll did return as promised. It was very nearly immediately clear that Moll was drunk – exceedingly so – for she was silent for once, and made every attempt to control her deportment. Almost as immediately, Georgiana decided that Moll should not be punished for it: nothing in her present actions could be called improper, and indeed, she was rather more proper than she usually was. Beyond this, Moll had been very soothing to Georgiana in that time after the loss of the baby, and despite Moll's wildness, Georgiana felt a good deal of affection for her maid.


	9. Part 1, Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Darcy was a particularly early riser, and so it was more common than not that Elizabeth woke to find herself alone in his bed. On this morning, however, she found he had not gone far, for he was standing before the window, gazing outside. The greyness of the morning could immediately be told by the light within the room, but even if it could not, a distinct pattering on the window informed Elizabeth that they were experiencing more sleet. This, clearly, was the cause for Darcy's current attitude, for everything about him, from the set of his shoulders to his silence – even after Elizabeth rose from the bed – indicated a tremendous worry.

This worry of his pulled at her heart, and she approached him and wrapped her arms around his chest, resting her cheek against his shoulder and hoping her presence was a comfort. The weather worried her, too – it had been so poor as to require her parents to curtail their visit, so Mr. Bennet could look in on his own estate – but she felt she must not contribute to Darcy's worries by adding her own.

"I have never known an April such as this," he said, softly.

"It is only the eighth of April. This may delay the spring planting, but there is still time."

"There is still time for the spring planting, but the winter wheat sits in mud, and I am not certain it can take much more of this. I cannot believe it is hardly spring and I am already thinking on what we should do about a bad harvest."

"Even if we do have a bad harvest, we shall be fine," Elizabeth said, soothingly. "We do not spend anything near our income, and if it is necessary, we shall cut back on our entertainments and expenditures."

"It is not us I am worried about. I appreciate that you have always been willing to make do with less income, my darling Elizabeth, but if our income is reduced, it is because my farmers cannot make their rents. They are, perhaps, in better situations than those on other estates, but some of them cannot afford a failed harvest, even if their rents are forgiven."

"Then we will do whatever we can for them, although perhaps in a few days, the weather will clear and our concerns will be entirely forgotten."

"There is nothing I hope for more," he said, although it was not in an hopeful tone.

* * *

Elizabeth had not been entirely understanding of the state of the winter wheat, but a few days after that morning, when the weather was finally clear enough to ride, they went out – Darcy on Kingfisher and Elizabeth on Spartan. Darcy set out as though to meet the road to Kympton, and soon enough it became clear they were to join that road.

Thus far, Elizabeth had not possessed the skill to take anything beyond the numerous private paths that crossed Pemberley's grounds, and she might have held some enthusiasm at this indication of confidence in her progress as an equestrienne, if it did not become rapidly clear to her that their purpose for taking the road was one of necessity. Darcy was both a highly accomplished horseman and a conscientious landowner, and he often went out on long rides across his grounds – usually with his steward, Richardson – to assess the state of his fields. This seemed to be one of the routes he took on these rides, and any pleasure Elizabeth might have felt in finally being qualified to ride it was rapidly eliminated by the state of the fields on either side of the road, which were wholly waterlogged in places. He did glance at her quite often, to ensure she was comfortable, but upon seeing his wife was still well in control of her cob, he was free to return his mind to what clearly occupied it, which was the state of the fields.

At one point, he reined Kingfisher to a halt beside one of the fields, comprised mostly of patches of mud and standing water, and looked upon it with a grim face, saying, "This was planted with winter wheat, and look at it. How are we to expect anything to grow in such a state?"

"Darcy," she said, laying one hand upon his thigh, for that was all she trusted herself to do upon horseback, and even this was an action she would not have undertaken until recently, "I hardly know how I could ever have regarded you as selfish. Even now, when you are out for a ride with your wife, you cannot stop worrying over the winter wheat."

"I am sorry, Elizabeth, it is just that this presses upon my mind – "

"I understand that it does, and it does you much honour that it is so, but I believe you must put it behind you for now – for there is nothing you can do to change the weather – and focus on more positive things. Your sons, for example – they are a subject upon which nothing but positive thoughts may be focused."

"They are indeed," he said, "and yet it is in part for James that I worry so over the estate. It is to be his legacy, and I wish it to be a good one."

"Darcy, it shall be a wonderful legacy, regardless of whatever happens in the course of this year."

"Next you shall be reminding me of how George has no such legacy."

"It appears I need not do so, for it is already at the top of your mind."

"Only because you have made it so."

"Perhaps George shall be a clergyman or a barrister, and have no worries beyond his next sermon or case," Elizabeth said, hopefully.

"I suspect clergymen and barristers have their own things to worry over."

"Then perhaps that is what we should keep in mind, Darcy – we all have things to worry us. The question is whether we allow them to dominate our lives. Why do we not return home, and see our sons? I am hopeful they may cheer us."

* * *

Changed from their riding clothes, they found James and George both awake and very amenable to a visit from their parents. Darcy took up George, and Elizabeth James, and they sat quietly until James emitted a squeal of laughter that seemed designed to make at least his mama forget about all the day's worries. He was followed, almost immediately, by a coo of laughter from his brother. They continued in this manner for some time, and Elizabeth felt certain they were laughing together, that they must each be pleased to have someone else who understood what they wished to communicate.

She found herself hoping they should always remain so close despite the difference in their expectations, but was utterly distracted from this thought when she looked over at Darcy and found his countenance bore the signs – for the first time in quite a while – of being pleased.

"You were right, Elizabeth, to make me focus on a future beyond this harvest," he said, when he caught that her attention was on him. "These boys are the true legacy of Pemberley."

"Indeed they are, and we shall have far better influence on them than we do the weather, although at present they seem to have the best influence on each other."

"So they do – I wonder what they could be laughing over."

"Perhaps they are not laughing over anything – perhaps they are simply pleased to be in existence with each other," Elizabeth said. "Or perhaps they are pleased that there appears to be silence from Bess's quarter. I would wonder that she can sleep through our presence, but she does seem to prefer rather a lot of noise in her life. I suppose we are quiet by comparison."

For this, she was rewarded with a chuckle from Darcy, which was rather more a relief than the pleasure she got from the continuing laughter between the boys. They were interrupted, eventually, by Henry, a footman, who entered and informed them of the day's post – several letters of business for Darcy, which had been left in his study, and one from Mr. Bennet, which Henry held in his hand, asking if Mrs. Darcy wished to read it now or have it placed in her chamber. Elizabeth did not wish to interrupt her time with her husband and sons, and indicated her preference for the latter.

She was particularly glad she did so when she went thither a little before it was time to dress for dinner, so she could read the letter. Mr. Bennet wrote of the weather in Hertfordshire, which appeared to be just as bad as that of Derbyshire, and Elizabeth could detect in her father's writing a true concern over Longbourn's harvest. That Mr. Bennet was actually worried enough to write of it told her it must be truly bad. While Elizabeth knew she must now add a measure of worry for Longbourn to her thoughts, she was glad she had not read the letter in Darcy's presence, where she would have been asked of its contents and felt compelled to relate her father's concerns. As she read on, she found these concerns had been enough for him to halt her mother's plans to re-furnish the drawing-room, at least until they had a better sense of how the harvest was to come through.

She determined if she was asked about the letter, she would share only that her mother desired to re-furnish the drawing room, and her father was hesitant. This sounded wholly typical of Mr. and Mrs. Bennet – Mr. Bennet's hesitation over the updating of the room might just as easily have been over his desire to avoid hearing of the fabric involved in upholstery as it was over concern about his income for the year. There was no reason to add to Darcy's worries when she had only just managed to distract him from them. Yet she wondered what should happen to Longbourn if the poor weather was to continue through the spring, for that estate could never have been said to be as well-maintained as Pemberley, and yet even Pemberley was suffering.


	10. Part 1, Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Mary Stanton entered Wincham's Church of St. Mary Magdalene, having taken particular care to select her dress and bonnet that day. She had never before been one to care about such things, but it was Easter and it seemed important to her, now that she was the rector's wife and stood before the congregation as an example, to honour God by dressing in a most respectable manner for this day.

She was not dressed in a flashy manner – Catherine had been perpetually attempting to convince her to go for thinner muslins and lower necklines, but when Jane had taken her to Derby to be fitted for her trousseau, Mary had held fast to her scruples and ordered a conservative set of dresses. Still, she owed Catherine a debt, in making Mary think at all about the fabric she chose and how her bonnets were trimmed. It was important, she now saw, to be able to greet her parishioners, to say good morning to Lord and Lady Winterley, in modestly fashionable clothes.

It had been some weeks since she had first taken up her place among David's congregation, embarrassed by being the centre of attention until the pleasure of hearing him give his sermon had calmed her nerves. Now, although she was still called on to go in first when they were invited to dine by Lord and Lady Winterley or one of the other local gentle families, she was not nearly so much of a novelty as she had been.

Across the church, she espied Mrs. Hobbs, the wife of one of the Winterleys's tenants, who had been ill for nearly a fortnight with a severe sore throat. Mary had not expected Mrs. Hobbs to be well enough to attend services today, and pleased to see this was so, Mary walked across the church to greet the woman.

"Mrs. Hobbs, I am very pleased to see you up and about!"

"I thank ye, Mrs. Stanton. I was none so sure I'd be here for Easter, me-self, but I woke yesterday morn and felt quite well again," said Mrs. Hobbs. "I cannae thank ye too much for the willow bark tea, for t'was it that gave me the most relief."

"I am glad it was helpful," Mary said, watching as each of the five Hobbs children followed their father into the pew and were seated. Mary was fairly certain she had learned the names for each of the children, but not quite sure enough to test herself and risk embarrassment, so instead she said, "It has often been a remedy for many maladies, within my family."

"I'll be swearin' by it now," said Mrs. Hobbs.

Mary felt there was more she should say in response to Mrs. Hobbs, but in truth her interactions with the Hobbs family over the course of the woman's illness had been much easier for Mary than Sunday pleasantries. Then, there had been willow bark tea to brew and children to help look after, and Mary was at her best when she could identify some action to take, some occupation for which she could be useful.

In the end, she merely said, "Happy Easter to you, Mrs. Hobbs," which the woman seemed pleased enough by as Mary departed her company.

After a great many other greetings, Mary took her seat in the front pew, and thought the old medieval church looked as well as it could, on this day. Lady Winterley had donated quite a lot of flowers from Winterley Hall's hothouses, and assisted Mary in arranging them throughout the church. They brightened the space beyond what its leaded windows could do with only the grey light of yet another wet day to illuminate them.

David began his services in a way that only a clergyman well-respected by his parishioners could – he quietly walked up into the pulpit and opened his prayer-book, looking expectantly out at the pews before him, for those in the congregation to take their seats. That they did, in a rapid cavalcade of pew legs thumping against the flagstone floor. On this as every other service he kept strictly to the common prayer-book, then shifted to his hand-written sermon.

This was the favourite part of Mary's, and, she had gathered, of most of the others around her, favoured enough that some of the people in attendance were not from within the parish of Wincham at all, but instead rode their horses or came in their gigs and pony carts from neighbouring parishes to hear him speak. David spoke well and clearly, but Mary thought this popularity was more because of what he had to say; he was tremendously well-read, but able to translate the theological arguments of their day into something that could turn the common man to thoughtful introspection, without his being overwhelmed. She had heard him do this, Sunday after Sunday, and after each speech, found herself even more proud of – and in love with – her husband.

"It will not surprise you that I wish to talk this day of resurrection. I suppose it should surprise you all more if I were to speak of anything else. But the resurrection I wish to speak of is not precisely of the sort we were reminded of in today's readings," David said. "Most of you will recall how, nearly four years ago, I went through a very dark time in my life."

He must have been referring to the death of his first wife, Isabel, Mary thought, and she felt herself momentarily seized with a strange, paralysing discomfort.

"Many of you have been through similar times," he said. "For it is a part of life that those of us left behind must suffer the death of our loved ones, even if we are spared their passage in so horrific and painful a manner as that in which Christ was crucified. We are all, in a way, like Mary Magdalene and the disciples, running to the tomb in our grief and confusion.

"We do not have that sort of resurrection – a true resurrection – to hope for, and it is not the goal of my sermon today to demean the importance or the significance of that most miraculous event upon which our faith is founded. But it has been my own experience that we each have in ourselves a more private sort of resurrection, in which we may be reborn from the darkness, and brought back to the light of our Lord. Some of us are able to find our way to that light through God's assistance, while for others, he sends another, to bring them back."

Here, he looked directly at Mary, and she thought for a moment she might burst into tears, but managed to hold them in, although she trembled violently in the effort.

"The resurrection of Jesus Christ can seem sometimes to be an event so miraculous that it is difficult to comprehend, and even to believe. I think we are given our more private resurrections for this purpose. Because when you are seated in darkness, and fear, and despondency, a return to the light may seem as impossible as God sending his son to earth to be crucified for our sins and raised from death. And yet that we may triumph over our own darkness provides a sort of evidence that God may make a larger and more fantastic event happen.

"I hope, if I have made any of you remember your own darker days, that you shall see this evidence in the happiness and hope you live in now. And if there are any among you who dwell in that place of darkness presently, that you shall speak with me of it, so I may pray for you and assist as I may."

David concluded, then, as he always did, with a prayer, and although it had been the shortest of his sermons that Mary had heard, when she looked about the congregation as much as she trusted herself to after the service, she thought it had been the most impactful, for while the message had been simple, it had been powerful. There were a great many people who wished to speak with David, while the others were filing out of the church with thoughtful countenances. Mary knew she should stand and give Easter greetings to those she had not done so for before the service, but she was still feeling a little overwhelmed, and remained where she was.

When the last of the voices within the church could be heard to exit, and the door banged closed with a reverberating thump that echoed throughout the church, David approached her and said, "Mary, are you well? I am sorry – I should have spoken to you of what I intended to put in my sermon, but in truth I was not entirely certain I was going to give it until just before I did. I had an alternative written out, one much more like my usual speeches."

"I never knew you felt like that," said Mary, finally surrendering her tears and rising to embrace him. "But why me? I do not understand what it was I did to help you."

"You made me realise I could have a life and a love beyond my career again, and now you have given me both. That is what you did, Mary, and it is everything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that turned out to be rather good timing! I'd like to say I planned it this way, but I can't make such claims.
> 
> It's so wonderful to see all of you lovely commenters back here. I'll be honest, I wasn't sure whether I'd get many comments at all for the third book in a series, but there you all are! I'm so looking forward to sharing this story with you.


	11. Part 1, Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Georgiana had not been out in society for very long before marrying, but she had known enough house parties to be aware that unpleasant company could make such an event very miserable indeed, even in a house so large as Pemberley. And if it could be so at Pemberley, it could have been far worse, on a frigate. Thankfully, she had found thus far that save Lieutenant Holmes, who had not deviated from his usual, hard-faced self, all the other men she lived in company with ranged from reasonable to very pleasant indeed, which made her role in presiding over the great cabin a relatively easy one. She passed her time there conversing with them, if any were so inclined, and if they were not, with embroidering her cushions, reading, and practicing the pianoforte, which she was often encouraged to do, there being several aficionados of music within the embassy.

On this morning, she was at the pianoforte, and finished her song to find that in addition to those who had been listening when she had begun, Lord Amherst and his son were added to their number. She rose, greeted them, and inquired as to whether they wished for any tea or coffee, there being relatively fresh pots of both on the great table in the middle of the room. Her offer was accepted, but they bade her to continue playing; they would much rather listen and pour their own refreshments. Thus Georgiana continued through a few more of her favourite sonatas and was embarrassed to find herself applauded when finally she rose from the bench.

"I did not realise we were to be so terribly spoiled on board this ship," said Mr. Ellis. "I shall begin to consider it a requirement that every embassy is given passage on board a ship wherein the captain has a very musical wife, travelling with him."

"Thank you, Mr. Ellis," Georgiana said, blushing.

"I do hope you shall take some time to go on deck, however, Lady Stanton," Lord Amherst said. "We were just there and it is a fine day – please do not feel as though you must stay to entertain us all morning."

"I shall go up in a little while," Georgiana said. As they neared the equator, the weather had continued to improve, and Georgiana now spent much more of her time on deck, enjoying the warmth and the fine, fresh breeze. She was eager to go up now, but did not wish to slight Lord Amherst or his son. She remained there with them for some time, therefore, partaking in the sort of light conversation that came from a party that had already become well-acquainted over the course of many breakfasts and dinners, with nothing new except that which had occurred on board the ship recently – which was little of note – to speak on.

It was Hawke that interrupted them, in a less genteel way than a butler of land would do, summoning Georgiana to the door to speak with him. "Bowden an' I caught a prodigious great tunny, milady," he said. "Since which, I wondered what we should leave the mutton for another dinner, with the fish to serve instead."

"Very well done, Hawke, and indeed we should," Georgiana said. She had become accustomed to dealing with the ship's limited supply of grocery – even with all that had come on at Chatham and the additional supplies they had taken on at Gibraltar, there was always a feeling that everything should be carefully rationed, so they did not run out before they reached the Cape. That Hawke and Bowden had caught a large tunny meant one of the sheep should receive a stay of execution until a future dinner, and those that had been invited to dine in the great cabin that evening would be treated to a fine, fresh fish.

Georgiana would have announced the promise of the tunny for dinner, but two of the men currently occupying the great cabin had not been invited to dine on that evening. This had nothing to do with their manners or anything like, and was merely because the great cabin could only hold so many to dine at one time. Thus while Georgiana had been keeping a household account of the grocery that had been ordered, her more important account was of who had dined on which evenings in the great cabin, among the men of the embassy and the officers of the ship. It was this she brought to her conferences with Matthew, to determine who should be invited on a given evening. Of all of those who _could_ be invited, only Lord Amherst, on account of his rank and position, was assured of an invitation on any evening in which a dinner was held in the great cabin, generally three to four times a week. On the other evenings, Lord Amherst and his son dined themselves in their cabin, and the rest of the embassy dined in the space that had become their own, forward of the wardroom. Georgiana and Matthew also generally dined themselves in the sleeping cabin, although usually once a week they were invited to dine by the wardroom, and on these occasions Georgiana was glad both for the respite in planning and the company of Mrs. Travis in addition to the officers.

Already near the door when she had finished her conference with Hawke, Georgiana took this as her opportunity to take her leave of those in the great cabin and take the air on deck. Most of the party would have been required to use the little hallway Mr. Randle had created to do so, but Georgiana instead cut through the sleeping-cabin, where she found Matthew writing in the ship's log.

"You sounded very well in there," Matthew said, looking up from the little secretaire at which he was seated.

Georgiana felt badly for him, for in other times this would certainly have been something he would have done within the great cabin, when he had command of that space as his own and the light of the great stern window to aid in his work. He did not seem overly upset by it, however, and she thanked him and kissed him before she would continue.

Her path took her through the more public part of the main deck, and while there she heard the sound of Moll's tremendous laugh and sighed, looking down the deck to where her maid was conversing with Bowden and Taylor, in too friendly a fashion. Moll had improved greatly in manners towards her employer, but when she was not on duty, Georgiana had come to realise she was a terrible flirt. Georgiana had attempted to speak to her of it already, but Moll's response had been that she had not been flirting, and the difficulty of it was that Moll did not believe what she did was flirting – it was merely her own natural reaction to life as it came to her on the ship. Georgiana's only consolation was that the men Moll messed with were sober, reliable men such as Hawke, Bowden, McClare, and Taylor, and that Mrs. McClare provided some manner of additional female presence, so that Moll was not such an anomaly.

Bowden, upon noticing Georgiana, came aft to assist her up the companion-ladder, and Georgiana had not the heart to tell him that she only required such assistance when she was with child, which she was not and would not be, while she and Matthew were taking an intentional break from marital relations to allow her womb time to heal. She quietly accepted his assistance and complimented him on having caught the tunny, therefore – pleased he had found occupation on board the ship, for it must have been strange for him to return to an environment in which he had previously held the elevated status of coxswain, but was now to act as a servant.

On deck it was a very fine day, and Georgiana felt herself enveloped by the pleasure that could only come from experiencing such a day in such a place, with the great downy sails above her head filled with the wind, and the unending blue expanse of ocean on every side of the ship. There was something very beautiful and pure about it, something that could not but prompt happiness in anyone who was to witness it. Georgiana sighted Mrs. Travis standing by the rail, and made her way over to her friend, to comment on the fineness of the day.

How long Georgiana stood in that place enjoying both weather and conversation she could not tell, but she was eventually removed from her enjoyment by loud voices near the ship's wheel, where Lieutenant Holmes and Midshipman Grant were engaged in what seemed an argument, of which it seemed Lieutenant Holmes won, in shouting, "We shall tack when I damned well say we shall tack!"

Lieutenant Holmes followed this by grasping the wheel, pulling it violently towards him. Georgiana noticed what seemed a panicked bit of running about by the seamen on deck, to pull on the sheets associated with the sails, which seemed at first causeless. Gradually, however, something came to feel very wrong about the ship's movement, as though the Caroline was losing all her forward momentum. When this first happened, Holmes seemed to show no remorse, but poor Grant stared ashen-faced about him for some moments, until he seemed to rally and ordered some of the men to lower one of the ship's boats.

Into all of this, and with his ship drifting to a near halt, came Matthew, as furious as Georgiana had ever seen him, shouting, "Loose jibs!"

This command, which it appeared some of the other men had been awaiting, prompted them to let out the sails on the bowsprit as much as they could be loosened. Despite the amount of expectant staring by much of the ship's company at the bowsprit, the sails there did not fill with wind, and it was left to the men in the boat to take a rope passed from the ship and then to tow her head around, pulling hard on their oars until, coinciding with a great degree of sail trim that had been ordered by Matthew, the Caroline once again saw her sails fill with wind, and she drifted back into motion, eventually reaching her previous pace.

Georgiana knew enough of this nautical world to piece together that what she had just witnessed was the ship missing stays, that most egregious of errors that should never have been committed by a ship such as the Caroline. The men clearly knew it, as well, for they exhibited a disproportionate degree of zeal in assisting the boat back into its place on deck, and then in glowering at Lieutenant Holmes. Still, Georgiana was unprepared when Matthew, upon looking about him and seeing that his ship was once again in order, and commanding Lieutenant Rigby to take over the watch, looked over to her and said, "Lady Stanton, will you accompany me below?"

This request was so incongruous after all she had witnessed that Georgiana very nearly protested she had not had anything to do with the ship's missing stays, but then thought that clearly Matthew knew this and had other reasons for wishing for her presence there. Perhaps he wished to speak of dinner, although it seemed an odd time to do so. She therefore met him near the companion-ladder and went down with him.

It was only when they were in the sleeping-cabin that he sighed and said, "Men detest the notion of an informer, so much so that those such as Grant, whose life might very well be bettered and would in no way be harmed by telling me of what happened just now, will not do so, even if I ask him directly. Even when the ship struck ice last winter, I could get nothing but the most vague recollections of what had happened, immediately after the event. So I realise I put you in an awkward position when I ask if you saw what happened, that led to the ship missing stays."

"I do not see it as awkward at all," Georgiana said. "Surely no one could think I have greater allegiance to anyone on board this ship above you."

She proceeded to tell him of all she had seen, and of precisely what Lieutenant Holmes had said, to confirm when he asked that she had not heard any of the preparations that even she, a newcomer to this nautical world, knew were involved in tacking the ship. When she had done so, he shook his head and said, "Were Holmes merely obstinate, or merely incompetent, I might be able to deal with him. But he is both, and he puts all of our lives at risk because of it. Thank God this did not happen on a lee shore or in battle, although I suppose in those instances, I would have been on deck and able to prevent such a thing."

"I believe Grant did all he could," Georgiana said. "He was very upset over what happened."

"Grant would make twice the officer Holmes is. It was him who ordered the boat lowered, was it not?"

Georgiana confirmed that it was, and Matthew promised he would speak to the young man, so as to praise his actions in a difficult situation. First, however, he must speak to Holmes, and it was clear by his countenance that this was not a conference he was eager to have.

"I wish to use the great cabin for this," he said. "It would not be nearly the same to speak to him here. I shall invite the men of the embassy to go on deck and have a glass of sillery, with the weather so fine. Will you help me if any of them are reluctant?"

Georgiana promised that she would, and after Hawke had been summoned to bring up the sillery and have it ready on deck, Matthew entered the great cabin and made his invitation. There were no reluctant men, however; even the greatest landlubbers among them could tell something out of the ordinary had happened, and must have understood that Matthew presently needed all those trappings of power that came with his position on the ship. With a great deal of cheer – perhaps false, perhaps not, for Matthew _had_ acquired some very fine sillery in Gibraltar – they left the cabin to make their way on deck. Georgiana followed them, after a sympathetic look to her husband for what he must do.

Matthew had managed to get the men out of his cabin, but this did not equate to privacy – there was hardly such a thing to be had on a ship of this size. Therefore, although everyone genteel on deck attempted to ignore that it was happening (the seamen had no such qualms) it was quite difficult to ignore the sound of raised voices – mostly Matthew's, although Lieutenant Holmes was obstinate enough for a few interjections – coming from the great cabin.

The men of the embassy, therefore, made a great deal of cheerful remarks regarding the weather and the sillery, until the voices within the great cabin quieted, and Mr. Grant's presence was requested there. Georgiana watched him go and wondered how it would wear on poor Matthew, to go halfway around the world with such a man as Holmes as his second lieutenant.

 


	12. Part 1, Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Catherine returned to her lodgings on Gay Street, feeling she had perhaps consumed a bit too much marzipan at Molland's with Louisa Elliott, but not entirely regretful that she had done so. She found Andrew was still out, having gone to the baths with several other captains, all of them finding that the damp weather brought out traces of old injuries and rheumatism; Andrew suffered from the former, several ribs that had been broken when he was a midshipman, and had been aching of late.

There was a letter waiting for her, from her father, and Catherine opened it to find herself being addressed by him in a manner she never would have been before her marriage, as a mature young woman able to understand her father's concerns, which were many. Snow, of all things – snow in April! – had all but destroyed the fields that had been ploughed for Longbourn's spring planting, and her father already considered the winter wheat a near loss, to be replaced in that spring planting. His fields remained waterlogged, and through all of this, Mrs. Bennet continued in her plans to refurnish the drawing room.

Catherine read all of this and was not sure whether she should be pleased that Mr. Bennet should consider her a worthy correspondent, to write of these topics to, or angered that it was only through the opportunities given to her by others – namely Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy – that Catherine had become someone who should have something intelligent to say about all that befell Longbourn.

It should have been no concern of hers – she and Andrew had more than a thousand pounds a year, and such a fortune went far in Bath. Their fortune came from his prize money and half pay, and her dowry (a dowry provided largely by her brothers-in-law), and thus required no management beyond ensuring it was invested properly, which Andrew monitored, keeping most of it safely in the five per cents. And yet as Catherine read through the letter again, she could not help but feel that – as she had been when her father's health was at risk – she was the only one of his daughters in a position to go to Longbourn and lend her assistance. Jane and Elizabeth were married to men with their own estates, Mary had married a clergyman tied to his church, and Lydia was in America, now, settled in the city of Philadelphia.

And her father _had_ been very apologetic to her, once he had been well enough to do so. He had indicated his regret in not seeing her merits earlier, as others had. But it was to those others, to Elizabeth and Jane and Charles and Mr. Darcy, and most particularly her husband, that she now held her strongest allegiance, and she refolded the letter in some turmoil over what she should do about it.

"You see, papa, if I was such a silly frivolous girl as you once thought I was, I should not have given your letter a second thought," she murmured, slipping it into the little box where she held her correspondence.

Andrew returned, and they dressed for that evening's assembly, going thither in the great line of sedan chairs as they should, although Catherine could have walked such a distance easily. It was only after they had greeted their acquaintances and were dancing that Andrew spoke of his wife's clearly distracted countenance.

"What's the matter, pretty Cat?" he asked.

"I had a letter from my father today," she said. "Much of the spring planting has been ruined by the snow, and the fields do not drain."

"It sounds as though your father needs a few marines," he said, but before he could elaborate, they were separated by the dance.

"What do you mean by my father's needing a few marines?" she asked, when they had come back together.

"In the few times when I have had need to camp ashore, there have been none so zealous as my marine lieutenants as to how the encampment should be established, and few things they cared more about in their zeal, than proper drainage."

It was only after they had finished their dance and he had gone to get her a very fine glass of punch à la romaine that they returned to the topic, when Catherine asked, "How do you think my father might be able to consult with someone of the marines, on how to bring his tenants' fields to drain again?"

"Are things so bad that your father has need of such assistance?"

"I believe they are."

"Then do you wish to go to Longbourn?"

"No, what I wish to do is to stay here and spend my mornings shopping and having tea at Molland's and going to assemblies and the theatre with our friends," Catherine thought, but what she said was, "I think I shall feel guilty if I do not. At the very least, perhaps I can talk my mother out of refurnishing the drawing room."

"Then let us go down to Portsmouth, first, and see if we might rouse up a marine officer and some number of seamen, for if there is to be drainage, there must be digging."

"Are you quite certain, Andrew? This was meant to be our time, and I feel badly that we should cut it short."

"You should never feel badly about wishing to help your family, Cat, and in truth I find myself a little out of sorts without some manner of occupation. If there is a thing to be done, I'd much rather do it, and so long as I can still share a bed with my pretty Cat at Longbourn, I am quite happy to go there."

 


	13. Part 1, Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reader rightly pointed out that I've been posting a la published book, with no content warnings, which is not generally the norm on these sites. Therefore I've added a content warning for what you can expect in the story just before chapter 1. I won't call out before each chapter that it's coming, although this chapter is one that has such content which is why I wanted to get the warning up.

**Chapter 13**

As the Caroline continued south, the weather grew still warmer and drier, so that Georgiana took to wearing the lightest of her muslin dresses and went more often to the quarterdeck, where the breeze made the air less stifling than it was in the cabin. She had, therefore, observed the ceremony of noon many times already, when the master would gather around him his mates and the midshipmen, and they would all look to the sun with their quadrants, note the time, and report it to Matthew.

Today, however, Mr. Travis looked to Matthew and said, "Noon, sir, and almost a'top the line."

"Very well, Mr. Travis. I expect Neptune shall hold court here this evening."

Any further conversation between them was drowned out by the boatswain piping the hands to dinner, their feet thundering across the deck and down below. Georgiana did not understand how they could stand to eat their dinner so early, and was glad the officers kept to a later dining hour, although it was still earlier than she had been used to on land.

This was one of the evenings in which she and Matthew dined alone in their little cabin, and when they were very nearly finished, lingering over the Derby sage – this and a few other of the delicacies that her brother had sent reminded Georgiana of home, and she had hoarded them for these private dinners so as to make them last longer – she asked Matthew what he had meant about Neptune holding court.

"Ah, yes, we have a ceremony that is performed when the ship crosses the equator, and the Caroline will have done so by now. You shall see when we go on deck. Oh, and do not wear a bonnet. A parasol may do, if the sun is still strong."

Georgiana thought it must be quite a ceremony indeed, if even females must keep their heads uncovered, but she was entirely unprepared for what she encountered on deck. She and Matthew took their places on the quarterdeck and were joined there by the officers and men of the embassy, as the seamen crowded in forward.

With a great deal of boisterous noise, one of the seamen came up from the side of the ship, wearing a wooden crown and a great long beard made of rope, with a trident in his hand. He was accompanied by another man, dressed as a woman with a wig made of rope, and some other ridiculously dressed companions. They were explained by Matthew as Neptune, his wife Amphitrite, his assistant Badger-Bag, and the rest of his court, and commenced dancing about merrily and splashing a good deal of water about them.

"All ye, who is not been across the line, come forth to be redeemed!" Neptune called out, stamping his trident on the deck.

Georgiana felt Matthew's hand upon her shoulder, urging her to step forward.

"Me?" she all but squeaked.

"Yes you, dearest, unless you have somehow neglected to tell me of another time you crossed the equator," he murmured.

Georgiana stepped forward, as did several of the men from the embassy. She felt, however, that much of the ship was looking at her, and soon enough Neptune came before her, bowing so deeply his beard flounced against the deck, to the laughter of all. Georgiana gave him a reasonable curtsey in return, her face hot at having the attention of the whole ship's company focused upon her, although she did not think anything too vexing could happen to her, the captain's wife.

The Caroline was comprised mostly of comparably wealthy seamen; many of them had followed Captain Stanton for years and had been with him through the capture of many prizes, so pewter was more common upon their dinner tables than wood, and it was a fine pewter cup that Neptune was handed, by Badger-Bag. Neptune looked over to the captain for his acquiescence, then proceeded to pour a small quantity of water upon the crown of Georgiana's head.

She coughed and spluttered as the salty water ran down her face, and listened to the ship's company laugh at her predicament. Georgiana felt, now, that she must not show herself to be delicate about what had happened to her, and in truth it was not nearly so bad as what she had been imagining. So she looked up at Neptune, then curtsied deeper than she ever had before – even when she had been presented to Queen Charlotte – and the men roared with laughter, applauding cheerfully as she stepped back towards Matthew and watched Neptune make his way to the first of the men in the embassy.

"You did well," Matthew said, looking amused, and handing Georgiana his handkerchief so she could mop at her face. "They will love you even more than they already do, for it."

"Is this why you told me not to wear a bonnet?" she asked.

"It was. Some men choose to pay a tribute, in lieu of a more watery redemption when they cross the line, but I was promised it would be a very little bit of water, and it is better luck to be doused."

"We should pay the tribute, regardless," she said. "I must assume it goes towards entertainment for Neptune's court, when next they go ashore."

"Indeed it does. They will be very pleased."

"Where is Moll?" Georgiana asked, glancing about the deck, where Mrs. McClare waited nervously for her turn in the festivities. The men of the embassy had now been lightly doused, and Neptune and his court had turned on the midshipmen, who faced a far worse fate than Georgiana had, for it seemed they were to be doused with a whole bucket of water, then shaved with naught but grease and a metal cask hoop.

"I do not see her – is she shirking her part in this?" he asked.

"I should hope not!" Georgiana exclaimed, for if she was to be doused, her maid must certainly be as well. She put a hand up to her wet, flattened hair and said, "I would rather put a bonnet on now, for my hair must look a fright. Perhaps she anticipated me and went down to our cabin."

"Come, I will go with you."

"Can you leave the ceremony?"

"For a quarter-hour or so, I can," he said, offering his arm and glancing over to where Rigby and Egerton were standing, giving a nod and receiving two in return.

Matthew went down the companion-ladder before her, but before he was halfway down, he shouted, "What the devil is this?" and leapt down the remainder of the stairs.

Georgiana, in an action she would later think of as impetuous and useless – for there was nothing _she_ could do to aid in some manner of shipboard emergency taking place below-decks – followed quickly after him. She found there immediately the cause for his alarm, which was that John Taylor was kneeling on the prostrate body of Lieutenant Holmes, and thoroughly pummelling him with his fists.

With everyone else on deck watching the ceremony, it was left to Matthew to yell to Taylor to cease what he was about at once, and when this resulted in some hesitation on Taylor's part but not a complete cessation, to bodily haul the seaman off his lieutenant. Holmes stood, brushed absently at the blood flowing from his nose, and proceeded to launch into a litany of curses aimed at Taylor. It was as he was drawing a breath to continue his tirade that there came a sniffle from the shadows, between two of the gun carriages.

"Moll!" Georgiana exclaimed, and went to kneel beside where her maid was sitting on the deck, with her arms wrapped around her knees. Moll was bleeding from a cut on her mouth and had a generally dishevelled appearance, and Georgiana's heart sank for it.

The discovery of a third party involved in the altercation changed the tenor of the scene immediately. Matthew ordered both men to stand before him without moving, then looked expectantly at Georgiana. Of course, she realised, it would be better for her to ask Moll which of them it was who had attacked her – for it was clear enough one of them had. Georgiana was a woman, and although she was every bit as furious as Matthew appeared, she could set aside her anger and question Moll with sympathy. Let Matthew preserve his fury for the punishment that must certainly be meted out over this.

"Moll," she asked, gently, "did one of these men attack you?"

"Yes, milady," Moll whispered.

"Which one was it, that attacked you?" Georgiana asked, although she felt certain already whom it was Moll was going to name.

"It was Lieutenant Holmes, milady."

In a new spasm of anger, Georgiana glared at Lieutenant Holmes and found him glaring back at her, a gaze so filled with hatred that Georgiana knew at once that she had played an unwitting role in what had happened here. _She_ had been the informer; _she_ had told Matthew of how the ship had come to miss stays, and Holmes must surely have understood that the intelligence came from her. He hated her most intensely by the look of it, but rather than attack her, which would have been too rash and foolish even for Holmes – to attack his captain's wife, a baronet's wife, and the niece of two earls – he had gone after her maid.

Matthew once again ordered both men to remain still, and walked over to the companion-ladder just long enough to put his head above the deck and call out some orders. In moments, several marines stamped down the ladder, awaiting his command, which was: "Lieutenant Holmes is to be confined to his cabin until further notice. I will have two guards on the door at all times. And take Taylor to the bilboes." He turned to Georgiana and spoke more softly: "You had best take her to the cabin."

Georgiana encouraged Moll to stand with her and walk the short distance to the sleeping cabin – the great cabin felt too large for such a time, and she did not know if any of the men of the embassy had remained there, avoiding the ceremony. Once there, she encouraged Moll to sit, and was concerned by the quiet, timid way in which she did so. Georgiana poured a little water into the basin on the wash-table, wetted a piece of flannel, and used it to dab at the cut on Moll's mouth, vaguely aware as she did it that it felt strange to be waiting on her maid in this way, but that it felt right; it was the sort of comfort any female should give to another female who had been afflicted with what Moll had been afflicted with on this evening. Just what that was, Georgiana was yet unsure. Moll appeared little injured aside from the cut on her mouth, and Georgiana prayed Holmes had not gotten too far in his actions before Taylor must have come to Moll's defence.

"You was right, milady, to warn me off flirtin'," Moll said, when Georgiana had finished and was rinsing the flannel in the basin. "He said I was a flirt and should'a come to expect some man would take me to task for it."

"No, Moll," Georgiana said firmly. "You must not let yourself think that. What he did – whatever he did – was not justified by a little harmless flirting. No other man on this ship attempted such evils, even all those lower than his rank."

"He didn't rape me – I know you must be wonderin'. He was wantin' to, and much as I tried to fight him, I think he would've. I never was so a'feared in my life, 'till Taylor came along," Moll said. "Sorry, milady, I shouldn't have said _rape_. I'm sure you high-born ladies have some other way to say it that's more genteel an' all that."

"We do not, and even if we did I would not wish for you to concern yourself over such things. You have had enough to worry you, Moll. I am only glad Taylor came along when he did."

Here Moll, who had been far more subdued than her usual self but otherwise fairly composed, considering her ordeal, burst into tears. "What's to happen to him? Why did the captain say he was to be put in the bilboes? Taylor didn't do nothin' but help me!"

"I do not know, but I will ask Captain Stanton of it. He is very just; he must have had a reason for what he did."

* * *

Georgiana did not have a chance to ask Captain Stanton of it until much later in the evening, when they retired for bed. While the merriment on deck had continued, undoubtedly with some degree of curiosity by all as to what was happening below decks that had necessitated the ongoing attention of the captain and several marines, Georgiana had continued to look after Moll, and the captain had been engaged in a long and bitter discussion with Lieutenant Holmes. He told Georgiana this much but no more before supper, for they had invited the men of the embassy to take that meal in the cabin as a way of concluding the ceremony, and they could not very well rescind the invitation without drawing more attention to the incident.

So while Moll sat quietly in the sleeping cabin, Georgiana and Matthew were required to make their way amongst the men of the embassy and encourage them to take more claret, port, and kickshaws, and neither of them was of a temperament to make this encouragement very convincing when neither of their hearts were in such entertainments. It was almost a relief when one of the men asked if they would play a little music, and they chose one of Beethoven's lighter sonatas, which provided Georgiana with some distraction as well as a clear end to the evening, when they had finished.

Moll quietly carried her hammock into the great cabin, once it had cleared, and Georgiana wished to say something comforting to her, but could not think of the right words. In the end, she gave her maid a sympathetic glance and turned back into the sleeping cabin. Then, struck with a strange thought, she walked over to the washstand and scooped up some water in her hand. Returning to the great cabin, Georgiana said, "Moll, wait," and then walked over to her maid, raising her hand to dribble out on Moll's head what little had not run through her fingers onto the floor, saying, by way of explanation, "I understand it's tradition, when one crosses the line. I wouldn't want it to be – unlucky – that you had none of the ceremony."

For a moment, Moll showed a glimpse of her old spirit, and a smile that was small, but genuine. "Yes, thank you, milady. I don't want to tempt luck."

Georgiana returned her smile, and then stepped out of the cabin, closing the door. When she turned back towards Matthew, she found that the fury of earlier in the day had been replaced by hard, firm anger, and this was confirmed when finally he spoke:

"I told Holmes I was to bring him to court martial, when we reached the Cape. I have tolerated a great deal from him, but this is well beyond the pale. To attack a servant, a woman travelling under my protection – it is unconscionable. If it had been _you_ – God help me," he said, in a tone that made Georgiana think it was more likely Lieutenant Holmes who would have needed the help.

"What will happen, when he is court-martialled?"

"He will not be court-martialled, however much I wish it."

"But what he did – "

"I see you wish for it as much as I do, but unfortunately there is a third in this incident, to whom I must give consideration."

"Yes, Taylor – why did you order him put in bilboes?"

"At first, to allow some cooling-off of all that had happened. He remains in the bilboes for the same reason I shall not bring Holmes to court-martial. Holmes threatened if I did, he would bring charges against Taylor, for striking him. You and I and any reasonable man would see that Taylor did so in defence of Moll, at least at first, and that if he carried on with it far longer than was necessary, it was only out of anger at seeing a woman treated thus. But it remains that he struck an officer, repeatedly, and it is not always reasonable men who sit in judgement of such matters. Taylor has been with me since my first command, and I will not gamble with his life – I would never forgive myself, to see him swing from the yard-arm. He will be punished here, on the ship, so Holmes cannot say later that Taylor's striking of him was overlooked."

"Punished – will he be flogged?" Such an event, a man being flogged, had only happened once since Georgiana had been on the Caroline – a case of extreme drunkenness – although she had of course been sent below so she would not witness it. She knew it was the most common form of naval punishment, and only rare on the Caroline because most of the ship's crew were veteran sailors and even amongst them, Matthew had enjoyed his choice of men, given the peace.

"Not if I can help it, but it will be a delicate matter."

"And Holmes is to go free, after what he has done?"

"He will go free, eventually, but he will not remain on this ship. After some negotiation, we have agreed that I will not bring charges against him, so long as he misses the Blue Peter when we are at Cape Town. There, he shall determine he has no way of catching up with the ship, and will return to England."

"It feels so wrong, that he should not be punished for what he attempted to do."

"It was only an attempt, then? He said it was, but I was not sure whether to believe him. Not that this lessens his guilt, for that was surely his intent. I hoped for her sake he was telling the truth."

"It was only an attempt because of Taylor. I suppose if he must go free to protect Taylor, it is the best thing that can be done in such a situation."

"I am glad you agree with me, dearest. I will admit there is a part of me which wishes to trumpet to all the service that Holmes is neither a gentleman, nor an officer, nor even a seaman, and that he is instead the worst of men. But even if it were not for Taylor, I think after some reflection I would have been hesitant to have this incident made public."

"Why?"

"This sort of scandal always seems to attach itself better to the woman involved rather than the man who commits the crime. I would have wished to ensure her anonymity for her own sake, but beyond that, Moll is your maid. If anonymity had been successful and it got out that a woman travelling on the Caroline had been violated – well, there are only four women travelling on this ship, and you are one of them."

"I do not know that I want a man of Holmes's proclivities to go free, merely for care of my own reputation."

"Well, perhaps fortunately, perhaps not, that is not the choice at hand. It is Taylor's life at stake, not Moll's or your reputation."

Moll seemed a little better in the morning, but still of such a subdued demeanour that she reminded Georgiana more of her elder sister than herself. Such a thing might have been a positive development, for Sarah Kelly was of generally impeccable manners, but for what had clearly precipitated the change.

The day being fine, Georgiana spent the requisite time breaking her fast in the great cabin with some of the men of the embassy, then went on deck. There was no sign of Matthew, whom she recalled vaguely having left their cabin very early in the morning, before she had gone back to sleep. Georgiana spent some time at the railing, gazing out at the endless expanse of blue before her, before Bowden approached her, did his awkward combination of forelock tug and salute, and said, "Milady, the captain called for defaulters at six bells, and if'n ye don't wish to witness punishment I'll take ye down when it's time."

"Thank you, Bowden, I think I will stay on deck, but near enough the companion-ladder that you may escort me down if anything is called for that a lady should not witness."

"Very good, milady," said Bowden, and now that Georgiana studied him, she realised he looked a little relieved. This made sense – Taylor was his messmate, and Georgiana's indication that it was possible there should be no punishment she could not witness must have buoyed his hopes that his friend would not be flogged.

Six bells, and the ship's company assembling on deck. Moll came up and went to stand by Mrs. McClare, who, it seemed, had been informed of at least something of the incident, for she put her arm around her friend's shoulders as they stood there, watching the seamen line up in their divisions. Whether Lieutenant Holmes was still under marine guard or simply did not wish to appear could not be told, but he did not make an appearance on deck.

Matthew did, however, looking harried as he watched the marines bring up Taylor, walking stiffly from having spent the night in the bilboes and presenting two well-scraped sets of knuckles. Matthew, when all had assembled, and the bell had rung – pom-pom, pom-pom, pom-pom – opened up the Articles of War, and commenced a full reading of them, with even more than his usual gravity.

When he had done, he paused for a moment, then said, "We have one defaulter this morning. John Taylor has been witnessed striking a superior officer. Have any of his officers anything to say on his behalf?"

"I do," said Lieutenant Rigby. "Taylor served in my division, when I was a mid on the old Victor, and I knew him then and ever since as a good, reliable man. I understand there was a severe provocation leading to his actions, which few good men could have failed to respond to."

"I do as well," said Midshipman Grant, whose best uniform still seemed a little ill-fitting on him. "Taylor served in my division, during the American war. It is my understanding that Taylor came upon the – the – officer in question in conduct quite – err – unbecoming of an officer – and any violence that occurred came as a result of wishing to stop the – err – conduct."

"He fought courageously during the battle with the Polonais, and then worked tirelessly to repair both the Jupiter and the Polonais, following the battle," said Lieutenant Egerton. "He would not sleep until he was sure we would bring them both in with their bows above the waterline."

"Aye," said old Mr. Randle, the carpenter. "He been a good mate for me, ne'er shirks 'is duty, alwus sober an' reliable. Hard worker. Good man."

Others stepped forward. Travis, Ashton, and several other midshipmen all spoke, until it became clear to Georgiana that Matthew's apparent exhaustion had come from being up and about early, to ensure that anyone who might have had anything good to say about Taylor would say it. His officers would not inform on Holmes, but neither would they see a good man punished for stopping his misconduct. When last it seemed that no one else was to step forward – and perhaps there was truly no one left to step forward – Matthew said:

"Well, this has been an exceedingly positive account of Taylor's conduct, and given there were – extenuating circumstances – involved in this incident, I am inclined to be lenient. Taylor is to have his grog stopped for a week."

Georgiana exhaled in relief, and then smiled, that Matthew should have made this come as right as it could be made to. She glanced over at Moll and saw her maid was too relieved to smile, and was instead threatening tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bilboes were a sort of leg iron that could be used to hold a seaman awaiting punishment.


	14. Part 1, Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Elizabeth spent increasing amounts of time in the nursery. It was not just that the weather continued poor, although it did, but more because it seemed to her that her sons were transitioning from the soft, needy bundles of their infancy – although she had adored them then, as well – to actual little boys, their personalities beginning to form.

Their laughing together had become a frequent thing, since that first time she and Darcy had observed it, but Elizabeth had never grown complacent about it. Every time she heard them, she found it completely delightful to her ears, and on the few occasions when no-one else was in the nursery with her, sometimes she joined them, delighted the boys were not shy about continuing to laugh with their mama.

On this day, they were not alone – poor Mrs. Padgett sat beside Bess's cradle, waiting for the time when her sleeping charge should wake and require nursing, or changing, or a good pounding upon the pianoforte with her young little fists. So Elizabeth was pleased enough to sit between James's and George's cradles, and listen.

She lost track of time, and was startled out of her listening by the entrance of her husband. He had been out riding, and had since changed his clothes, but his hair still bore signs of dampness, and his countenance of worry. For the first time, Elizabeth had an impression of what he would look like when he was older, for in this moment he appeared well beyond his one and thirty years of age.

He brought another chair over to where she was sitting and seemed for the time to simply want to sit quietly with his family. Elizabeth was glad to have introduced this – if not panacea – then at least some means of distraction from his worries. She learned, however, that his quietude was not caused wholly by these motivations, but by the desire for privacy, for when Bess woke and was carried off crying out for her instrument by Mrs. Padgett, he finally said:

"There is little use in trying to sow nearly half the fields. They would never hold seed in their present state. Some, with a week or so of dry weather – and let us pray we have it – may be brought to readiness, but there are others entirely under water, and likely to be so for some time."

"Oh, Darcy, I am so sorry. I had hoped things would have turned around by now."

"So had I."

"You read of the Ramsey's plans for Longbourn with this Marine Sergeant, Barnes. Do you think a similar scheme might help here?"

"I would try anything with even the slightest chance of helping, and if he is successful at Longbourn I should like to bring him out here when he is done, but I see no need to wait for him. Many of the ditches are overflowing, and we may dig them out deeper without any expertise, I think."

"That seems a good plan," Elizabeth said. She did not know if it would be successful, but she had the sense that anything with the promise of some benefit, anything into which his focus could be directed productively, would be a good thing for her husband right now.

The twins had drifted into sleep, and they left them quietly, querying a servant as to where the Bingleys were. They were informed that Mrs. Bingley was in the saloon and Mr. Bingley still out for the day. This was not a surprise: Charles, like Darcy, was dealing with the poor condition of his estate's fields, and had the disadvantage of not living on his estate, so that he was required to ride over every day. A few times, he had been so absorbed in his duties there that he had needed to dispatch a servant back to Pemberley, informing them that Mr. Bingley would be staying over at Clareborne. This, however, was not something Charles did often; in addition to the needs of his pregnant wife at Pemberley, Clareborne Manor had only the minimum of staff available to see to their master's comforts, and the house had never been a dry one – one of the primary reasons for its being replaced – and so in this weather it must have been wet through and through.

They joined Jane in the saloon, therefore, Elizabeth quietly asking Parker as they went in if a bottle of port particularly favoured by Mr. Darcy might be brought up from the cellar, and the master brought a glass. This took some time, in a house so large as Pemberley, and they had been seated perhaps a quarter-hour before Henry came in and presented a glass to his master. Darcy thanked him and took it, gazing particularly at his wife, whom he must have suspected to be behind this little comfort he had just been presented.

Elizabeth's plan to soothe her husband seemed to be taking effect until Henry returned with a pair of letters from Georgiana, for his master and mistress. Elizabeth took hers up, but read slowly, half her attention on the letter and half her attention on her husband's reaction to what he read in his. Georgiana had surely formed some part of his worries – not so direct and visible as what was happening on his estate, but worries, nonetheless – and Elizabeth hoped his pages would soothe those worries. Her hopes were ended when he cried out: "Good God!"

Elizabeth and Jane both worriedly asked what had prompted his concern, and Elizabeth skimmed her own letter to see if she could find the same news. He read on silently for a little while, then said, "Do you recall there was an embassy sent to China, under Lord Amherst?"

Elizabeth and Jane had interests that did not generally align with an embassy to China, and they were required to reply that they did not, and to be informed there was one, and it had been travelling on the frigate Alceste, and this frigate had been lost following a storm.

"The Caroline is to replace the Alceste," Darcy said, his voice tight, "and so Matthew has been ordered on to China, and Georgiana has every intention of going thither with him."

Neither Elizabeth nor Jane had ever left England, nor had any great likelihood of doing so anytime soon, with children and husbands binding them to the country, and so the notion of Georgiana's going to China was very nearly as incongruous to them as it would have been if Buttercup the pony had trotted into the saloon and requested a dish of tea.

After the necessary period of time required to process this intelligence, Elizabeth said, "It seems an impossible journey for us, but Matthew must not have thought it so, or he would have found passage for her to return here. And perhaps after all that happened this winter, it is better that they are together, even if it is to travel to such a place."

This was the wrong thing to say. Darcy already blamed himself for what had happened over the winter – that Georgiana had fainted and fallen down the steps in his home, her childhood home, and lost a baby. To bring it up now, even if to assuage his concern over her going to China, was instead to criticise his remnant role as her guardian even after she had married, in looking after her while Matthew had been in the Baltic. Darcy looked up, sighed deeply, and returned to reading the letter. He looked up some time later, when it seemed he had reached the end, and said:

"And that is it. That is all the word I am to expect of her until they reach Cape Town and she may deposit her next letters for delivery here."

Elizabeth motioned to Henry to bring around another glass of port, and said, "I know it must come as a shock to you, my dear, but certainly Matthew would not have acquiesced to her going with him unless it was safe. Indeed, if they are to take Lord Amherst in any degree of comfort, the journey must be comfortable enough for a lady."

Darcy sighed, and took up his new glass of port – much more quickly poured, now that the bottle had been roused up and decanted – and said, "How I wish right now that she had married some man bound to an estate, and yet if she had, he would be worried about the same things I am presently, and she with him, just as you are, Elizabeth. I believe there will be little respite for me from worry this year, and I suppose I should at present count my blessings for a wife who knows that at least some respite can come from my best old port."

* * *

The digging of the ditches took three days to organise as a concentrated effort. The farmers and their regular labourers, as well as the local day labourers, were ready to go and began sooner, but Darcy went so far as to recruit displaced manufactory workers who had lost their jobs due to the cutbacks that had followed the overproduction of the last few years, and they came walking into the local villages, sleeping several to a room in the inns if they could afford it, and paying a pittance to berth in the straw of the stables if they could not.

Darcy went out early that morning, and given the rain seemed to be holding, Elizabeth was struck with the idea that she might ride out to see the progress. She inquired with Mrs. Reynolds as to what accommodations had been made for the labourers, was informed that cold meat, cheese, bread, and ale were already being prepared to send out as a nuncheon, and therefore went out empty-handed, riding Spartan and followed by one of the grooms.

She knew not where to go, but thought they might start out towards Lambton and then go in the direction of Kympton if they saw no sign of the digging parties. Elizabeth felt quite comfortable on Spartan, although she would not have ventured out without a groom at the ready to assist her, but it was only when she came upon a long file of men, shovelling heavy sludge from one of the waterlogged ditches, that she realised she had never felt so much the lady of the manor as she did now, to be riding about and surveying the work occurring on her husband's grounds.

When she came closer to the men, however, she was shocked to realise he was among them, shovelling as vigorously as any of them. His back was to her, and he did not see her approach, so it was only when Mr. Richardson, digging away beside him, looked up and saw her, that Mr. Darcy was alerted to his wife's presence, when his steward laid his hand upon Darcy's shoulder and informed him he should stop. He laid his shovel down and tromped over to where Spartan stood, saying, "Good morning, my dear. Did you come to see how we progress?"

"I did," she said. "I must admit I had not thought I would see you quite so actively involved, in this effort."

"I asked that any able-bodied man in the parish who was available come out to lend his assistance – and to be paid appropriately for it, of course. Am I not an able-bodied man of the parish?"

"You are, of course, but you must admit you are not accustomed to this sort of labour, nor were you ever expected to be," she said, looking more closely at him, and particularly at the glimpse she caught of his palms, which were a bright shade of pink. "Darcy, look at your hands. They will not last the day."

"I doubt I shall be the only man who finds his hands chafing by sunset."

"Yes, but you are the only one – aside from Richardson – who needs said hands to balance the estate's books and write letters of business, and as your wife I would prefer you be able to do so without being crippled by blisters. Let me send Thomas back for a pair of gloves, at least."

A few days ago, she had thought he looked older than his years. Now, the look he gave her was that of a petulant child who had been told he was too young to play with the elder children. Yet he must have known that even his attempt to be here among these men, in his top-boots and his clothes so much finer than theirs, meant something to them – meant a great deal to them, in all likelihood – and they were not likely to judge him if he needed to don a pair of gloves to see the day through.

"Very well," he said, and Thomas, the groom, was summoned up closer to his mistress and told to return to Pemberley and bring back whatever pair of gloves Mr. Darcy's valet thought would be best for holding a shovel.

Thomas's departure, and Darcy's return to the line, left Elizabeth seated there on Spartan, watching them. She was no longer concerned over her horsemanship, but felt an awkwardness to her presence that gradually dissipated as she realised that the men periodically glanced back at her with approval. She would never have been expected to join in the digging, but her presence there was a further support for their efforts, beyond her husband's being there beside them in mud well past his ancles.

Thomas returned, and the gloves were reluctantly donned. The rain came, some time after this, not a bad rain, by present standards, and Elizabeth knew as soon as Darcy looked back at her that he would not leave off of his efforts until the rain became bad enough for all of them to quit, but that he would wish her to return home. She said her good-bye, therefore – asking if there was anything else that might be sent on from the house beyond the nuncheon Mrs. Reynolds had prepared – there was not – and turned Spartan around to ride back.

When she had deposited the cob at the stables and walked back to the house, she summoned Mason, and requested that a hot bath be drawn for Mr. Darcy and kept topped up until whenever he finally made his return. It was the only thing she could think to do for him at such a time.

* * *

Elizabeth had been rather hoping her husband would not be too tired for marital relations that evening, for there was something rather attractive as well as admirable about his having spent the day engaged in such earthy work. Her hopes were not met, however, for he flopped into bed beside her, groaned, and said:

"I do not believe I have ever been so exhausted in my life as I am today. I do not know how men do this sort of work every day – I can hardly lift my arms above my head."

"They have grown accustomed to it, just as you have grown accustomed to your own activities. I am sure they would all be exhausted in their own way, if they attempted to take Kestrel on a ten-mile ride."

"Thank you for that, my dear. A little convincing of my manliness was just the thing I needed right now, and were I able to lift my arms, I would embrace you."

Elizabeth chuckled, and leaned over to rub his shoulders with her hands. "Does that help, at all?"

"I am not sure whether it does anything fundamentally beneficial, but it is very pleasing, regardless."

"Well then I shall continue," she said, and did. "Despite your exhaustion, you must know that it meant a great deal to those men that you continued on beside them through the whole day. I could see it, when I rode out – they respect and esteem you, perhaps even more than they did before."

"I wish I could say that I do it entirely for that purpose, to show solidarity with them," said he. "But I believe my own greater motivation is just to be doing _something_ to attempt to better the situation. Still, I am not so sure I should have promised to go back out tomorrow, for I fear I shall not be able to keep up with everyone else."

"I am sure you will wake much refreshed in the morning," she said. "Now, let me see your hands. Kelly has a very nice rose balm she makes, that I think will be just the thing if they are sore."

"They are not sore," he said, but he handed them over for inspection anyway.

"Oh, they do look well enough," she said, for while they were clearly forming some callouses, they were not nearly as bad as she had feared. "It is a good thing _someone_ insisted you wear gloves."

"Indeed it is. And I see what you are attempting to do, Elizabeth – to teaze me, and make me forget my worries. They are not entirely forgettable, but I do appreciate your efforts."

That had not been the only thing she was attempting to do, and perhaps he knew this, but she would not press him on it, merely smiling at him to acknowledge his statement, and allowing them to lapse into silence. It became clear that her conversation had been the only thing keeping him awake, for this was enough to allow him to drop into sleep.

Elizabeth rose to put out the candles that remained burning in his bedchamber, and looked back at him fondly, lying there in his pose of exhaustion. The best landlord, and the best master, Mrs. Reynolds had said, so long ago – or had it been the other way around? It did not really matter, to be precise about it: the sentiment was what she remembered, and the sentiment was exactly accurate. Elizabeth felt herself blessed, in this moment, that she had listened so carefully to Mrs. Reynolds, that she had reconsidered him, and that he had still been in love with her, so much so as to offer for her again.

"Oh you good, considerate, honourable man," she whispered, as she climbed back into bed and blew out the candle on the stand beside her. Then she smiled again, as she thought he would likely wake refreshed in the morning, as she had promised, and be far more interested in that other distraction she had to offer.

 


	15. Part 1, Chapter 15

 

 

 

**Chapter 15**

Ever since Georgiana had come out into society, she had become accustomed to the hours of her class, of dining at six in the country and seven or eight in town, staying up as late as her evening entertainments required and sleeping late in the morning to accommodate for it. Even on board the Caroline, where the naval day began at noon but the ship's activity, which never really ceased, increased significantly with daylight, she still enjoyed the luxury of sleeping late.

On one morning, however, her sleep was violently interrupted with the pounding of a drum, shortly followed by Moll's rushing into the cabin and telling her she must rise immediately and dress, for the ship was beating to quarters. In groggy confusion, Georgiana came awkwardly over the side of her cot and found Moll felt sufficiently rushed to put her stays, petticoat, and dress on over Georgiana's nightgown, rather than allowing her to change into a shift.

The reason for this became apparent when Moll, feeling her mistress sufficiently dressed, stuck her head outside the cabin door and said it could be cleared now. Immediately, men carried the bulkheads that made up the very walls of the cabin away, and then began to work on the furniture and trunks stored within, taking them down to the hold.

"Moll, what is happening?" Georgiana asked, looking down the length of the ship, where the men were running their guns out and checking their sights and locks.

"From me understanding, we came across a slaver at dawn an' gave chase, though t'was little change of our catchin' her. But then we got in a lucky shot with one o' the bow chasers – the captain – I'm sorry, Commodore Stanton – himself aimed it, Bowden said – and it took out one o' her spars, 'an that slowed her down enough for us to have hope of catching her."

This was far from Georgiana's first experience in the ship's beating to quarters, although usually it was done much later in the day and prefaced the ship's practice on the great guns, something Matthew insisted on doing more days than he did not, even with Britain at peace. In the first few episodes of the great gun practice, Georgiana and the other women on the ship had been required to practice going to the forepeak, their place during a battle, if such an unlikely event was ever to occur. Once it had become clear they could make their way thither quickly, they had been allowed to observe the exercise, Georgiana standing beside Matthew while he explained to her what the gun crews were doing. This was followed by an impossibly loud chain of firing that inevitably led to the complete destruction of whatever target had been towed out: Matthew took the fighting capabilities of his ship very seriously, even in peacetime.

"Does Captain Stanton intend we should go to the forepeak immediately?" Georgiana asked.

Moll looked lost as to an answer, but was saved when Bowden came leaping down the companion-ladder, sighted his mistress, and said, "Milady, with the captain's compliments, 'tis safe enough still to go on deck for now so he may attend ye, if ye wish."

"Thank you, Bowden, and yes, I would wish to see Captain Stanton this morning, and would appreciate it if you attend me there," Georgiana said in the most formal tone she could muster, wishing to recall him to his duty, for she feared he had become too caught up in this ship they were chasing and – if left unchecked – might put himself in a more dangerous position where he could lose the sight of his good eye.

She took his arm to where Matthew was standing at the front of the ship, and he bowed to his master, as Matthew welcomed Georgiana. "Good morning, dearest. You are safe enough here for now, for our prey, whoever she is, has no stern chasers. I hope you were not roused too badly by our beating to quarters. I did not believe we would need to, until a lucky shot hit home."

"Most of my startling was by Moll, and she would not allow them to break down the cabin until I was ready," Georgiana said. "I am sure I was the cause of some consternation by your crew for slowing their progress. Indeed, all of your men seem particularly zealous today."

"Ah yes, they are undoubtedly pleased by this. All men have some degree of piratical nature," he said, "and this has roused the Carolines's like nothing else could. For the ship before us is most likely a slaver, and therefore one of the few lawful prizes left upon the oceans."

After he spoke, Georgiana turned her attention more thoroughly upon the slave ship he mentioned. It was strange enough after such blue water sailing to even see another ship, but to see one with the panicked motions of an attempted escape from the men upon its decks was still more strange.

How long she stood there beside Matthew, watching as they drew gradually closer to the other ship, Georgiana did not know. The first event that punctuated this time of waiting was when the Caroline was clearly drawing closer, and jets of water came to be seen on either side of the ship before them.

"My God, they are starting their water," Matthew said, in horrified accents. "I pray we catch them now, for if we do not, I know not how they expect their _cargo_ to survive. They wish to escape capture themselves, and they will commit nothing short of murder, to do it."

Georgiana was only beginning to grasp what Matthew was speaking about, this ship's _cargo_. The slave trade had always been a distant and historic thing for her – her family had never had interests in the West Indies, and she knew her father and brother had fully supported Wilberforce, but that was the extent to which they had ever spoken of it. So she was slow in fully grasping what Matthew spoke of, this _cargo_ that required the water that was currently being pumped out over the sides of the ship, water that should have kept men alive, men who were bound for the Americas as slaves. It had not rained since they had crossed the equator and did not seem likely to, and that was the only hope the slave ship now had of water, unless it returned to Africa.

"If they are afraid enough to start their water, they may be afraid enough to turn and fight," Matthew said. "I believe you should go below now – I will attend you there."

Matthew's attending of her there took some time, for there were a few gun crews near them that Matthew would give encouraging words to, and Georgiana noted that most of these men did seem to have a sudden piratical look to them, perhaps because many had already stripped to their waists and tied bandannas about their heads to prevent the sweat running in their eyes. When Georgiana and Matthew reached the forepeak, she found most of the men of the embassy standing near the entrance, aside from those few brazen men who had remained on deck, wishing to see a naval battle for themselves. Beyond all of them, at the entrance, stood Bowden with his arms crossed, looking a little sullen. This sullenness was somewhat alleviated by Matthew's thanking him for looking after Lady Stanton during the battle, and reminder that as Bowden had been entered as a captain's servant on the ship's books, he would still share in any prize money.

Matthew clasped her hand before Georgiana could crouch down and make her way into the forepeak, where the other ladies were already gathered. Although there were too many people around them to say anything intimate, Georgiana saw all she needed to in his eyes, and thought certain he did in hers, as well.

"There is danger in any engagement," he said, reassuringly, "but this ship is no Polonais."

"Still, please be safe," she murmured, and crawled in to take up a place between Moll and Mrs. Travis. She could not help but think of having dreamt of being in this situation once before, and what the outcome of it had been in her dreams – Matthew being carried down on the arms of his men: bleeding, badly injured, and hardly conscious. She shuddered, and felt some comfort when Mrs. Travis patted her hand.

They waited for what seemed a very long time, silent, seated on the cushions there and watching the lone lantern above their heads swinging to and fro with the swell. The Caroline's bow chasers could be heard firing continuously and were eventually punctuated by the sound of distant firing from the other ship, and crunching and crashing noises as some of the slaver's shots hit the Caroline. Then there came a perceptible change in the ship's motion, and one by one above their heads, the great guns went off. Following this, perhaps a minute of silence, and then cheering.

"I believe she'll have struck, now," said Mrs. Travis, patting Georgiana's hand again.

Mrs. Travis's conjecture was confirmed by Bowden, who stuck his head and one muscular arm in and said, "She's struck, and 'tis safe for the ladies to come out."

It seemed they were all waiting for Georgiana to go first, although she thought this an absurd time to observe precedence, but she did so, taking his arm to rise and thanking Bowden particularly as she did so for having stayed with them through the battle to see to their safety, which seemed to further mollify him.

The men from the embassy had already dispersed, excepting Mr. Akers, the surgeon, who was assisting Clerkwell on the operating table, for it seemed there had been some injuries even in so short an engagement. Georgiana made her way up one companion-ladder to the berth deck, very nearly empty at this time, and then another, to the gun-deck, where a faint haze of smoke and the scent of gunpowder lingered, even from just one broadside. The final companion-ladder, and she was out on the main deck, blinking in the bright sunlight, Lieutenant Egerton running over to her.

"Lady Stanton! Captain Stanton is over on the prize, but I think he would rather you remain below, rather than see – "

It was too late. Georgiana's gaze had already turned towards the Caroline's prize, and Egerton's words only served as a further lure. The slave ship was smaller than the frigate, its deck noticeably lower than where she stood. Upon this deck, a first few men had already been released, and more were following – thin, naked men, their skin gray and ashen except around their wrists and ankles, where it erupted into sores and blood. Georgiana almost wept to see it, and this was even before she sighted some of the Carolines carrying up the bodies and laying them neatly in a row at the stern of the ship.

Following the sight of this, Georgiana found herself stumbling toward the rail of the frigate and retching overboard. This was the first time she could ever remember doing so without cause of being pregnant – for that she most certainly was not – and merely over the horror of what she had seen. It seemed Lieutenant Egerton had sent someone for whatever drink was nearest at hand, for when she had finished and rose upright, he handed her a mug and she drank without asking what it was. It turned out to be bosun's grog, and for a moment she thought she would not keep it down, but once it had burned her belly well enough, she found she felt a little better.

"I think Captain Stanton would rather you had not seen that," Lieutenant Egerton repeated, weakly, taking the mug from her hand.

"Those men! Those poor men!" she exclaimed, stealing another glance at the slave ship to find that they had brought up more bodies, and there were now women also on deck, all those who could take it being offered water by one of the midshipmen.

"It is an atrocity," Egerton affirmed. "Yet we have stopped this one, at least, and those who have survived will not suffer the remainder of the passage, nor be sold into slavery. We shall send the prize to Freetown, and they will be released."

"Thank God for that," Georgiana said. "But what of the ships that get through?"

"I pray there will be fewer and fewer of them, for with the war over the navy can now turn more resources to stopping the trade."

"I pray there will be, too," she responded, weakly.

Egerton, seeing Bowden had followed his mistress to the deck, requested he see her back to her cabin to rest. It was not so much rest Georgiana needed, but time alone to process what she had seen was desirable, and she took up Bowden's arm without protest, certain Lieutenant Egerton had more to do about the ship than look after her. Once she had been seated there, Bowden brought her a glass of wine. She drank a little of it, but found herself overwhelmed with reflections of what she had seen, and had a good long cry over it. Only then could she approach it with a bit more sanguine nature, as Lieutenant Egerton had, and think that at least in the vast ocean, they had found this one ship, and freed those that had survived of this set of men and women.

Matthew burst in not long after she had reached this point, saying, "Georgiana? I was told you had taken ill."

"I am not ill," she reassured him. "I was sick, earlier, but it was only for sight of that ship."

"Oh, dearest, I am sorry – I should have warned you not to look at it."

"Please do not apologise, for I am glad that I did. It was horrible to see, but I would rather have seen it and better understood the horrors of the trade, than have been kept protected below decks. I am only a little embarrassed at having been so afflicted by the sight."

"Do not be, for you are far from the only person to be ill at the sight of what you have seen today. I very nearly lost my own stomach when we got below decks on that miserable ship," he said, and Georgiana realised he looked rather unwell himself.

Georgiana offered him her half-drank glass and watched as he smelled deeply of the wine before tossing the rest back in one gulp. "Thank you, dearest, I'll have Bowden bring you another," he said.

"Do not bother – I do not think I should drink anything more until I eat a little, and I am not yet sure my stomach is up to eating."

"Did you ever break your fast today?"

"I did not, but that hardly seems a deprivation now."

"Still, let me have Bowden bring you some tea and gruel – they are making it up in great quantities for those on the slave ship."

"A little tea does sound good, but none of the gruel, yet – not until those poor men and women have had a chance to eat their fill."

"Very well," he said. "And I will have Hawke pass the word that we shall postpone tonight's dinner until tomorrow. There is still too much to be done before we can get that ship under way again."

* * *

Georgiana was brought her gruel late in the evening – Matthew had been serious about her request – and ate it with little enthusiasm. Moll came to change her, replacing the nightgown she had worn all day with a fresh one, and leaving her with a solemn curtsy. Whether Moll had also seen the deck of the slave ship or whether this was simply a continuation of her subdued demeanour since her attack, Georgiana could not tell.

She became aware of some purposeful movement of the ship, the deck beneath her feet no longer wallowing in the swell, and instead drifting forward. Some time after this, Matthew came into their cabin.

"I did not think you would still be awake," he said, proceeding to unceremoniously divest himself of all but his shirt and breeches, tossing his uniform jacket over one of their trunks.

"I hoped to see you before I went to bed," Georgiana said. She knew not how to describe that after seeing the results of such inhumanity, she needed a human connection with that person in the world she was most intimate with.

"Well, I had not expected to see you awake, but I am glad of it all the same," he said, holding out his arms to her.

Georgiana rose from the chair in which she had been sitting, in contemplation, for many hours, and all but threw herself into his embrace. She had never felt so blessed as she did now.

"We shall do the funerals tomorrow," Matthew said. "I doubt that any of those who died were Christians, but they shall have a Christian burial at sea, all the same."

"When shall you hold the funerals?"

"At four bells in the forenoon watch, unless we are required for some reason or other to postpone," he said. "Georgiana, I know you will be required to remain below during the funerals, and I would beg you not to look out any of the gun ports, for I would hate for you to have a glimpse of what I fear will happen. Sharks follow slavers because they have become accustomed to having a certain number of dead thrown overboard regularly, and we have seen several still following the Lorraine, which means there may be many more below the surface."

Georgiana shuddered at the thought of this, and was glad that although their embrace had loosened, his hands still clung faintly to her hips.

"At least this does allow me to deal with Holmes in a more expedient manner than I had otherwise expected," Matthew said, perhaps to distract her, perhaps because he wished to discuss the topic.

"What do you mean?"

"He shall take the Lorraine in to Freetown. It is highly unusual for a first lieutenant to take a prize into port when it is unlikely he shall ever catch up with his ship, but it is at least less suspicious than his missing the Blue Peter at the Cape, particularly when our ship is unexpectedly bound for China. I presume he shall be able to conjure up some reason for not wishing to go farther abroad. And it shall give Grant a better chance at his step – a better chance than I ever would have thought when he joined the ship."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Once Holmes has left with the prize, I shall make Grant acting third lieutenant, in his stead. It is the best way a man with little interest can gain a promotion – indeed, it is how Captain Ramsey got his step – but I never would have thought things would line up in such a way that he could be made this early in the journey. With any luck, my acting order shall be confirmed by the admiral at the Cape, and Grant will thus be a lieutenant, which he should have been these many years."

"Oh, that would be such a good thing to see."

"There is a great deal of goodness that has happened today, including that."

"What do you mean?"

"I believe in God and in his power, but I do not share the belief of some others, that he actively intervenes in battles. How should God decide where to stand in man's wars, when there are both good and bad men on either side, who find themselves in a situation where they must seek to kill each other?" Matthew said. "But slave ships are much better caught near the coast. So in this instance, when we should wake on a day of blue-water sailing to find such a ship before us, when a lucky shot should slow her pace, well, I cannot help but think that God has found this battle, this cause, worthy of some intervention, and that we were meant to free those men and women."

"I think you are right," Georgiana said, for what he said most succinctly reflected her own ruminations, through the later course of the day. "Matthew, what will become of them, when they are brought to Freetown?"

"They shall be released, of course."

"But as they are now, without clothes, or even a few pennies for food?"

"Ah, that I must admit I do not know very much about. You are right to think of it, Georgiana."

"Could we send something with them, to re-establish them?

Matthew replied that they could and that it would be honourable to do so, but it became clear that he did not wish for any money to be sent in care of Lieutenant Holmes. It would be better, he said, to enclose a banknote in a letter to the governor, and send it in the care of one of the reliable hands that must, unfortunately, form part of the prize crew, for while Matthew could ill-spare them, he did not trust sending off Holmes with the dregs of his crew. Nor did he know who the governor was, currently, but he thought Lord Amherst might, and promised to ask him in the morning. With this settled, Georgiana felt the fatigue she had been ignoring for some time overwhelming her, and this must have been noticeable, for he asked if she wished to retire.

Georgiana responded that she did, and he assisted her up into her cot, then clambered into his own with none of the awkwardness Georgiana generally struggled with, in reaching her own place of sleeping. She missed those days when their cots had been joined together, and missed those things they had _done_ , when their cots were joined together. But after her miscarriage, she and Matthew had agreed they should take a long break from marital relations, to allow her womb time to heal, and he had proposed this should lessen the temptation for both of them. Georgiana knew there certain things that could be done, without risking a child, however, and she was beginning to wish she had proposed they leave the cots together so that at least they might have those pleasures. This was not the night to raise such a topic, however, and so she said her good-night to him, and sought to make herself as comfortable as she could be, in her lonely cot.

* * *

Lord Amherst, upon Matthew's application, did know that the present governor of Sierra Leone was Charles Macarthy. The baron claimed no acquaintance with Macarthy, although, upon hearing of the purpose of Matthew's letter, he did handsomely insist on including a banknote of his own. Thus Matthew was required to write a letter blind of acquaintance, although he thought it appropriate enough, as correspondence from a Royal Navy captain to the governor of a present colony. The letter requested the governor's assistance in seeing the money from the banknotes put to food and clothing for the freed slaves, or distributed equally among them, depending on what the governor thought best. It was quite a lot to put in the hands of someone they had never met, but Georgiana and Matthew thought it the best thing possible, under the circumstances.

The letter was given over to the oldest, soberest, and most reliable of the men chosen from among the prize crew, with instructions that it was to be delivered without delay to the governor, and a few shillings for the seaman's trouble, to be put towards his entertainment once the task was done. That man was standing on the deck of the slaver alongside the rest of the prize crew and Lieutenant Holmes, who looked about him with an expression of mild disgust.

Now that there was a chaplain on board the ship with the embassy, Mr. Griffith, there was a degree more delicacy in determining if Matthew should continue to bear the responsibility for religious ceremonies. Mr. Griffith had taken on the Sunday services, and with Matthew's blessing, took charge of the funerals as well. When the time came for them, Georgiana sat in the great cabin, alone, solemnly listening to Mr. Griffith give the service she could not attend:

"We therefore commit their Bodies to the Deep, to be turned into corruption, looking for the resurrection of the body (when the sea shall give up her dead) and the life of the world to come, through our Lord Jesus Christ; who at his coming shall change our vile body, that it may be like his glorious body, according to the mighty working, whereby he is able to subdue all things to himself."

Georgiana did as she had promised and did not look out through the gunports, but she could not avert her ears, and so could not but avoid hearing the noise coming from beside the Caroline, a certain thrashing that indicated the burial was not at all peaceful.

The Caroline and the Lorraine eventually outsailed this unrest, the two ships diverging, the Lorraine on her easterly course, the Caroline heading towards the southeast, the Cape, and a rendezvous with the other ships of her convoy.


End file.
